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LORDS OF THE WORLD 






“fasten his hands, and firmly too; that youth 

MIGHT GIVE US TROUBLE” 


LORDS OF THE WORLD 


A STORY OF 

THE FALL OF CARTHAGE AND CORINTH 


BY TIIE 

Rev. ALFRED J. CHURCH 

n 

AUTHOR OF “TWO THOUSAND YEARS AGO,” “STORIES FROM HOMER,” ETC. 


WITH TWELVE ILLUSTRATIONS BY RALPH PEACOCK 


NEW YORK 

CHARLES SCRIBNER’S SONS 
1897 



/ 


ov 


Copyright, 1897, by 
CHARLES SCRIBNER’S SONS 

b | Si % 
v osf 




TROW DIRECTORY 

PRINTING AND BOOKBINDING COMPANY 
NEW YORK 


PREFACE 


The year 146 b.c. was an annus mirdbilis in the 
development of Roman dominion. Of course it had 
Jong been a foregone conclusion that Carthage and 
Corinth must fall before her, but the actual time of 
their overthrow was made all the more striking by 
the fact that both cities perished in the same year, 
and that both were visited by the same fate. I have 
attempted in this story to group some picturesque 
incidents round the person of a young Greek who 
struggles in vain to resist the destiny of the con- 
quering race. The reader will also find some sug- 
gestion of the thought which the Roman historian 
had in his mind when he wrote: “Carthage, the 
rival of the Roman Empire, perished root and 
branch, sea and land everywhere lay open before 
us, when at last Fortune began to rage against us 
and throw everything into confusion.” The day 
when Rome rid herself of her rivals seemed to some 
of her more thoughtful sons to be the first of her 
corruption and decline. 


Ashley, April 22, 1807. 


A. J. C. 











































































* 







































CONTENTS 


CHAPTER PAGE 

I. The Fate of the Melcart , 1 

II. Cleanor, Son of Lysis, ...... 10 

III. The Last of a Veteran, 16 

IV. Scipio, 32 

V. A Great Scheme, 39 

VI. The Mission, . ... t ... 52 

VII. The Last of the Greeks, ..... 61 

VIII. The Corinthian Assembly, 73 

IX. At Thermopylae, . 85 

X. A Pinchbeck Alexander, 101 

XI. The Two Hasdrubals, 117 

XII. Scipio sets to Work, 131 

XIII. In the Roman Camp, 142 

XIV. The Megara, . 148 

XV. The Prisoners, 158 

XVI. Baal Hammon, 172 

XVII. Move and Countermove, 191 

XVIII. Help from the Hills, 199 

XIX. The Battle on the Isthmus, 207 

XX. Treachery, . 215 


Vlll 


CONTENTS 


CHAPTER 




PAGE 

XXI. Polybius, .... 




. 224 

XXII. A Pleasure Trip, 

• • 



. 236 

XXIII. Diplomacy, 

• • 



. 248 

XXIV. In Sore Need, 

• • 



. 261 

XXV. A Refuge in the Storm, 

• • 

• 


. 272 

XXVI. The Storming of the Upper City, 



. 281 

XXVII. A Precious Book, 


• 


. 294 

XXVIII. The End of Carthage, 




. 307 

XXIX. At Delos, 

• • 



. 316 

XXX. Corinth, .... 

• • 



. 325 

XXXI. Mummius, .... 

• • 



. 336 

XXXII. The Slave-dealer, . 

• • 



. 342 

XXXIII. To Italy, 

• • 



. 352 

XXXIV. At Misenum, 

• • 



. 357 

XXXV. The World well Lost, . 

• • 



. 371 

XXXVI. Beyond the Sunset, 

• • 



. 381 


ILLUSTRATIONS 


u Fasten his hands, and firmly too ; that youth might 
give us trouble,” ..... Frontispiece 

“ The old icing, though his eyes were open, did not seem 
to see Cleanor,” 

The Roman Envoys to Corinth are compelled to leave 
the amphitheatre, 

The Macedonian Pretender performs the Pyrrhic dance, 

“Do you yield?” said Cleanor when the Roman had 
reached the Shore, ....... 

“ The High Priest placed the sacrifice on the out- 
stretched ARMS OF THE GOD,” ...... 

“ I SAW YOU STOOP AND LIFT YOUR COMPANION FROM THE 
GROUND,” 

“ Cleanor produced from the pack yvhich he carried some 

TWICE-BAKED BREAD,” 

The Lady Salamo defies the Romans from the Walls of 
Carthage, 

“ Scipio, throwing his toga over his face, burst into a 
passion of tears,” 

A Corinthian Nobleman being sold as a Slave in the 
Market-place, 

“ Half an hour afterwards Cleone emerged as a brill- 
iant young beauty,” 


PAGE 

16 ^ 

23 / 

84 '' 

110 x 

156 ' 

188 c 

218 '' 
266 / 

292 ' 

314 / 
332 x 
368 




























































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LORDS OF THE WORLD 

CHAPTER I 

THE FATE OF THE MELCART 

Melcart , the sacred ship of Carthage, 
as on its homeward voyage from Tyre, 
id had accomplished the greater part 
its journey in safety ; in fact it was 
only a score or so of miles away from its destination. 
It had carried the mission sent, year by year, to 
the famous shrine of the god whose name it bore, 
the great temple which the Greeks called by the title 
of the Tyrian Hercules. This was too solemn and 
important a function to be dropped on any pretext 
whatsoever. Never, even in the time of her deepest 
distress, had Carthage failed to pay this dutiful 
tribute to the patron deity of her mother-city ; and, 
indeed, she had never been in sorer straits than now. 
Rome, in the early days her ally, then her rival, and 
now her oppressor, was resolved to destroy her, 



2 


LORDS OF THE WORLD 


forcing her into war by demanding impossible terms 
of submission. Her old command of the sea had 
long since departed. It was only by stealth and 
subtlety that one of her ships could hope to traverse 
unharmed the five hundred leagues of sea that lay 
between her harbour and the old capital of Phoenicia. 
The Melcart had hitherto been fortunate. She was 
a first-rate sailer, equally at home with the light 
breeze to which she could spread all her canvas, and 
the gale which reduced her to a single sprit-sail. She 
had a picked crew, with not a slave on the rowing 
benches, for there were always free-born Carthagin- 
ians ready to pull an oar in the Melcart. Hanno, 
her captain, namesake and descendant of the great 
discoverer who Lad sailed as far down the African 
coast as Sierra Leone itself, was famous for his 
seamanship from the Pillars of Hercules to the har- 
bours of Syria. 

The old man — it was sixty years since he had 
made his first voyage — was watching intently a 
dark speck which had been visible for some time 
in the light of early dawn upon the northwestern 
horizon. “Mago,” he said at last, turning to his 
nephew and lieutenant, “ does it seem to you to be- 
come bigger ? Your eyes are better than mine.” 

“Not that I can see,” answered the young 
man. 

“ She hardly would gain upon us if she has no 


THE FATE OF THE MELCART 


3 


more wind than we have. Well, I shall go below, 
and have a bite and a sup.” 

He wetted his finger and held it up. “ It strikes 
me,” he went on, “ that the wind, if you can call it 
a wind, has shifted half a point. Tell the helmsman 
to put her head a trifle to the north. Perhaps I 
may have a short nap. But if anything happens, 
call me at once.” 

Something did happen before ten minutes had 
passed. When Mago had given his instructions to 
the helmsman, and had superintended a slight shift- 
ing of the canvas, he looked again at the distant 
ship. It had become sensibly larger. The wind 
had freshened out at sea, and was rapidly bringing 
the stranger nearer. Mago hurried below to rouse 
his uncle. The old man was soon up on deck. 

“ I wish we were ten miles nearer home,” he 
muttered, after taking a long look into the distance. 
“Get the oars out. If she is an enemy and wants 
to cut us off, half a mile may make all the differ- 
ence.” 

The order was promptly obeyed, and the rowers 
bent to their work with a will. But all the will in 
the world could not make the Melcart move very 
fast through the water. She was stoutly built, as 
became a ship that had to carry a precious burden 
through all weather, and she was foul with the long 
sea- voyage. The goal of the race between her and 


4 


LORDS OF THE WORLD 


the stranger, which could now be seen to be a 
Roman ship- of- war, was a headland behind which, 
as Hanno knew, was the harbour of Chelys. Let 
her reach that and she was safe. But it seemed as 
if this was not to be. The Roman ship had what 
wind there was right aft, and notwithstanding all 
the efforts of the MelcarV s crew, moved more rap- 
idly through the water. She would manifestly cut 
off the Melcart before the headland was reached. 
But Hanno was not yet at the end of his resources. 

“Call Mu tines,’ 5 he said to his lieutenant. 

Mutines was a half-caste Carthaginian, whose 
thick lips, flat nose, and woolly hair indicated a 
negro strain in his blood. “Mutines,” said the old 
man, “you used to have as good an aim with the 
catapult as any man in Carthage. If your hand 
has not lost its cunning, now is the time to show 
your skill. Knock that rascal’s steering-gear to 
pieces, and there is a quarter- talent for you.” 

“I will do my best, sir,” said Mutines; “but I 
am out of practice, and the machine, I take it, is 
somewhat stiff.” 

The catapult, which was of unusual size and 
power, had been built, so to speak, into the ship’s 
forecastle. It could throw a bolt weighing about 
seventy-five pounds, and its range was three hun- 
dred yards. While Mutines was preparing the en- 
gine, word was passed to the rowers that they were 


THE FATE OF THE MELCART 


5 


to give six strokes and no more. That, as Mutines 
reckoned, would be enough to bring him well within 
range of the enemy. The calculation was sufficiently 
exact. When the rowers stopped, the two ships, 
having just rounded the headland, were divided by 
about three hundred and fifty yards. The impetus 
of the Melcart carried her over about one hundred 
more. When she was almost stationary Mutines 
let fly the bolt. He had never made a happier shot. 
The huge bullet carried away both the tillers by 
which the steering-paddles were worked. The ship 
fell away immediately, and the Melcart , for whose 
rowers the fugleman set the liveliest tune in his 
repertory, shot by, well out of range of the shower 
of arrows which the Roman archers discharged at 
her. In the course of a few minutes she had reached 
the harbour of Chelys. 

But her adventures were not over. The captain 
of the Roman ship was greatly enraged at the es- 
cape of his prey. To capture so famous a prize 
would mean certain promotion, and he was not pre- 
pared to resign his hopes without an effort to realize 
them. As soon as the steering-gear had been tem- 
porarily repaired, he called his sailing-master, and 
announced his intention of following the Carthagin- 
ian into the harbour. 

The man ventured on a remonstrance. “ It’s not 
safe, sir,” he said; “I don’t know the place, but I 


G 


LORDS OF THE WORLD 


have heard that the water is shallow everywhere 
except in the channel of the stream.” 

“You have heard my orders,” returned the cap- 
tain, who was a Claudius, and had all the haughti- 
ness and obstinacy of that famous house. The sail- 
ing-master had no choice but to obey. 

Clielys, so called from the fancied resemblance of 
its site to the shape of a tortoise, was a small Greek 
settlement which lay within the region dominated 
by Carthage. It was a place of considerable an- 
tiquity — older, its inhabitants were fond of assert- 
ing, than Carthage itself. For some years it had 
maintained its independence, but as time went by 
this position became more and more impossible. 
Had Chelys possessed any neighbours of the same 
race, a league might have given her at least a 
chance of preserving her freedom. But she stood 
absolutely alone, surrounded by Phoenician settle- 
ments, and she had no alternative but to make 
her submission to her powerful neighbour. She 
obtained very favourable terms. She was free from 
tribute, no slight privilege, in view of the enormous 
sums which the ruling city was accustomed to ex- 
act from her dependencies . 1 She was allowed to 
elect her own magistrates, and generally to manage 
her own affairs. To contribute a small contingent 


1 One paid a talent (£215) per day, making an annual amount, allowing for 
the difference in the value of money, of not less than a quarter of a million. 


THE FATE OF THE MELCART 


7 


to the army and navy of the suzerain state was all 
that was demanded of her. It was natural, there- 
fore, that Chelys should be loyal to Carthage — far 
more loyal, in fact, than most of that city’s depend- 
encies. Rome, which had more than once exacted 
a heavy sum as the price of the little town’s immu- 
nity from ravage, she had no reason to like. 

The incident described above had taken place 
within full view of the piers and quays of Chelys. 
The excited population which crowded them had 
hailed with an exulting shout the fortunate shot 
that had crippled the Roman vessel, and had warmly 
welcomed the Melcart as she glided into the shelter 
of the harbour. Their delight was turned into rage 
when it became evident that the enemy was intend- 
ing to pursue her. The insolent audacity of the pro- 
ceeding excited the spectators beyond all bounds. 
Stones and missiles of all kinds were showered upon 
the intruders. As the ship was within easy range 
of the quays on both sides of the harbour, which 
was indeed of very small area, the crew suffered 
heavily. 

Claudius perceived that he had made a mistake, 
and gave orders to the rowers to back, there not 
being space enough to turn. It was too late, and 
when a huge pebble, aimed with a fatal accuracy, 
struck down the steersman from his place, the 
doom of the Melicerta—iov this was the name of 


8 


LORDS OF THE WORLD 


the Eoraan ship — was sealed. A few moments 
afterwards she grounded. 

This was, of course, the signal for a determined 
attack. Hundreds of men waded through the shal- 
low water and climbed over the bulwarks. The 
crew made a brave resistance, but they were hope- 
lessly outnumbered and were cut down where they 
stood. The magistrates of the city happened to be 
in consultation in the town-hall. Disturbed in the 
midst of their deliberations by the sudden uproar, 
they hurried down to the water-side, but were too 
late to save any but a very few lives. Claudius had 
stabbed himself when he saw how fatal a mistake 
he had made. 

Clielys was, of course, in a tumult of delight at 
its brilliant success in destroying a Roman sliip-of- 
war. Its responsible rulers, however, were very far 
from sharing this feeling. A defenceless city, and 
Chelys was practically such, for its walls, never 
very formidable, had been suffered to fall into de- 
cay, must take no part in the hostilities of a cam- 
paign. So long as it observes this neutrality it is 
really better off than a fortified town, but to depart 
from this policy is sheer madness. 

The magistrates did all they could. They sent 
back the few prisoners whom they had been able to 
rescue from the hands of the populace, to the com- 
mander of the squadron to which the Melicerta had 


THE FATE OF THE MELCART 


9 


belonged. They offered to pay an indemnity. They 
went so far as to promise that the ringleaders of 
the riot should be handed over for trial. The Ro- 
man admiral, a Flamininus , 1 and so belonging to a 
family that had more than once made itself noto- 
rious for unusual brutality, would not hear of 
making any conditions. He determined upon a 
vengeance which was not the less pleasing because 
it would be as lucrative as it 'was cruel. Chelys 
was to be visited with the severest penalty known 
in warfare— all the male inhabitants of the military 
age and over were to be put to death, the women 
and children were to be sold as slaves. The slaves 
from Chelys, as Flamininus, a shrewd and unscru- 
pulous man of business, well knew, would fetch a 
high price. They were Greeks, if not of the purest 
blood, and while barbarians in any number could 
be easily obtained, Greek slaves w€;re a rare article 
in the market. 

His resolve once taken, Flamininus took every 
precaution that its execution should be as complete 
as possible. The magistrates, who had come to 
intercede for their countrymen, were detained ; no 
hint of what was intended was allowed to reach the 
doomed city. Landing the half legion of marines 
which the squadron carried he occupied in irresist- 

1 C. Flamininus was degraded from the Senate for killing a captive in cold 
blood to entertain his company at dinner. 


10 


LORDS OF THE WORLD 


ible force Chelys and all the roads by which it could 
be approached or left. His next step was to make 
what may be called an inventory of the prey which 
had fallen into his hands. The census roll of citi- 
zens was seized, and information about their families 
was purchased from some prisoners who were will- 
ing thus to redeem their lives. A few wealthy men 
and women were allowed to ransom themselves at 
the highest prices that could be extorted from their 
fears ; and then, when a few days had been allowed 
for the assembling of the slave-dealers, who, with 
other animals of prey, human and non-human, fol- 
lowed the armies and fleets of Rome, Flamininus 
allowed the deputation to return, and proceeded to 
execute his sentence. 


CHAPTER II 

CLEANOR, SON OF LYSIS 

T HE wealthiest, best born, and generally most 
influential citizen in Chelys was Lysis, son of 
Cleanor, father himself of another Cleanor, so 
named, according to a custom common in Greek 
families, after his grandfather. He was descended 
in a direct line from the original founder of the set- 
tlement, an Ephesian Greek, and was also distin- 


CLEANOR, SON OF LYSIS 


11 


guished by the possession of the hereditary priest- 
hood of Apollo. The family prided itself on the 
ptjrity of its descent. The sons sought their brides 
among four or five of the noblest Ephesian families. 
The general population of Chelys, though still 
mainly Hellenic in speech and habits of life, had a 
large admixture of Phoenician blood, but the house 
of Lysis could not be reproached with a single bar- 
barian mesalliance . 

Lysis had been the leader and spokesman of the 
deputation which had vainly approached the Roman 
commander. His house, in common with all the 
principal dwellings in the town, had been occupied 
by the Roman marines. But a douceur , judicious- 
ly administered to the sub-officer in command, had 
procured for him the privilege of a brief period of 
privacy. He found that his wife and children were 
still in ignorance of the Roman admiral’s decision. 
They did not, indeed, expect any very lenient 
terms — they looked for a fine that would seriously 
cripple their means ; but they were not prepared 
for the brutal reality. Lysis tasted for the first 
time the full bitterness of death when he had to 
dash to the ground the hope to which they had 
clung. 

“Yes,” he said in answer to a question from his 
wife, unable or unwilling to believe her ears ; “ yes, 
it is too true— death or slavery.” 


12 LORDS OF THE WORLD 

Dione — this was the wife’s name — grew pale foi 
a moment, but she summoned to her aid the courage 
of her house — she claimed to be descended from the 
great Ion himself, the legendary head of the Ionic 
race — and recovered her calmness. Stepping for- 
ward, she threw her arms round her husband’ s neck. 
Her first thought was for him ; her second, scarcely 
a moment later, for her children. 

“ And these ? ” she said. 

Recovering himself with a stupendous effort of 
self-control, Lysis spoke : 

“ Listen; the time is short, and there are grave 
matters to be settled. It was hinted to me, and 
more than hinted, that I might purchase ybur life, 
Dione, and my own. These Romans are almost 
as greedy for money as for blood. What say 
you ? ’ ’ 

“And these?” said the woman, pointing to her 
children, while her cheek flushed and her eyes 
brightened with the glow of reviving hope. “ Can 
they also be ransomed ? ” 

“That is impossible,” said Lysis. 

“Then we will die.” 

“ That is what I knew you would say, and I gave 
the fellow — it was the admiral’s freedman who 
spoke tome about the matter — the answer, ‘No,’ 
without waiting to ask you. Our way is clear 
enough. My father learnt from the great Hannibal 


CLEANOli, SON OF LYSIS 


13 


the secret of his poison-ring , 1 and he handed it on 
to me. You and I can easily escape from these 
greedy butchers, but our children ” 

He struggled in vain to keep his self-command. 
Throwing himself on a couch hard by, he covered 
his face with his cloak. 

The children were twins, very much alike, as in- 
deed twins very commonly are, and yet curiously 
different. Apart, they might easily have been mis- 
taken for each other, supposing, of course, that they 
were dressed alike ; seen together, anyone would 
have said that such a mistake would hardly be 
possible, so great was the difference in colour and 
complexion — a difference that impresses the eye 
much more than it impresses the memory. But 
whatever dissimilarity there was was accidental 
rather than natural. Cleanor had been seized at a 
critical period of his growth with a serious illness, 
the result of exposure in a hunting expedition. 
This had checked, or more probably, postponed his 
development. His frame had less of the vigour, 
his cheek less of the glow of health than could be 
seen in his sister’s, of whom, indeed, he was a some- 
what paler and feebler image. 

1 Hannibal carried about with him in the cavity of a ring a poison so 
deadly that it would destroy life in a few seconds. When about to be 
delivered up to the Romans by the petty sovereign — Prusias, King of 
Bithynia — with whom he had taken refuge, he killed himself in this way 


14 


LORDS OF THE WORLD 


“ We will die with you,” said the twins in one 
breath. They often spoke, as, indeed, they often 
thought, with a single impulse. 

“ Impossible again ! ” said Lysis. “ The priest- 
hood which, as you know, I inherited from my 
fathers, I am bound, under curses which I dare not 
incur, to hand on to my son. If the gods had made 
me childless — and, for the first time in my life, I 
wish that they had — I must have adopted a succes- 
sor. This, indeed, I have done, to provide for the 
chances of human life ; but you, Cleanor, must not 
abdicate your functions if it is in any way possible 
for you to perform them. And then there is ven- 
geance ; that is a second duty scarcely less sacred. 
If you can live, you must, and I see a way in which 
you can.” 

“And I see it too,” cried the girl, with sparkling 
eyes. “Cleanor, you and I must change places. 
You have sometimes told me that I ought to have 
been the boy ; now I am going to be.” 

“ Cleone ! ” cried the lad, looking with wide eyes 
of astonishment at his sister ; “ I do not know what 
you mean.” 

“ Briefly,” replied the girl, “ what I mean is this. 
You masquerade as a girl, and are sold ; I masque- 
rade as a man, and am killed.” 

“ Impossible ! ” cried the lad ; “I cannot let you 
die for me.” 


CLEANOR, SON OF LYSIS 


15 


“ Die for you, indeed ! ” and there was a touch 
of scorn in her voice. “Which is better— to die, or 
be a slave? Which is better for a man? You do 
not doubt ; no one of our blood could. Which is 
better for a woman ? It does not want one of our 
blood to know that. The meanest free woman 
knows it. By Castor ! Cleanor, this is the one 
thing you can do for me. Die for you, indeed ! 
You will be doing more, ten thousand times more, 
than dying for me!” 

“She is right, my son,” cried Lysis. “This was 
my very thought. Phoebus, the inspirer, must 
have put it into her heart. Cleanor, it must be so. 
This is your father’s last command to you. The 
gods, if gods there are — and this day’s work might 
make me doubt it — will reward you for it. But the 
time is short. Hasten, and make such change as 
you need.” 

The twins left the chamber. When they returned, 
no one could have known what had been done, so 
complete was the disguise which Cleone’s skilful 
fingers had effected. The girl’s flowing locks, which 
had reached far below her waist, now fell over her 
shoulders, just at the length at which it was the 
fashion of the Greek youth to wear them, till he 
had crossed the threshold of manhood. His were 
rolled up, maiden-fashion, in a knot upon his head. 
She had dulled her brilliant complexion by some 


16 


LORDS OF THE WORLD 


pigment skilfully applied. His face, pale with 
misery, needed no counterfeit of art. 

Lysis and his wife had gone. By a supreme 
effort of self-sacrifice they had denied themselves 
the last miserable solace of a farewell, and were 
lying side by side, safe for ever from the conquer- 
or’s brutality. While Cleanor and his sister waited 
in the expectation of seeing them, a party of ma- 
rines entered the room. 

“ Fasten his hands, Caius,” said the sub-officer 
to one of his men, “and firmly too, for he looks as 
if he might give us trouble. By Jupiter ! a hand- 
some youth ! What a gladiator he would make ! 
Why do they kill him in this useless fashion ? The 
girl is your business, Sextus. Be gentle with her, 
but still be on your guard, for they will sometimes 
turn. But she looks a poor, spiritless creature.” 


CHAPTER III 

THE LAST OF A VETERAN 

T HE fate of Chelys caused wide-spread indigna- 
tion and disgust even among the enemies of 
Carthage. No one was more indignant than Masta- 
nabal, King Masinissa’s second son. The prince had 
tastes and habits very uncommon in the nation of 


THE LAST OF A VETERAN 


17 


hunters and fighters to which lie belonged. He was 
a lover of books, and disposed to be a patron of 
learning, if he could only find learning to patron- 
ize. The Greek population of Chelys had always 
preserved some traces of culture, and the Numidian 
prince was on terms of friendship with the settle- 
ment. He was an occasional visitor at its festivals, 
had received the compliment of a crown of honour 
voted to him in a public assembly, and had shown 
his appreciation of the distinction by building for 
the community a new town-hall. 

His intercession had been implored by the mag- 
istrates when they found themselves repulsed by 
the Roman commander. Unfortunately he was 
absent from home when their messenger arrived. 
Immediately on his return he hurried to the spot. 
Too late, even if it had in any case been possible, 
to hinder the brutal vengeance of Flamininus, he 
was yet able to mitigate the lot of the survivors. 
By pledging his credit to the slave dealers, them- 
selves disposed to accommodate so powerful a per- 
sonage, he was able to secure the freedom of all the 
captives. 

He made special inquiries about the family of 
Lysis, whose hospitality he had always enjoyed 
during his visits to the town, and learnt enough to 
induce him to make a personal inspection of the 
captives. As the melancholy procession passed 
2 


18 


LORDS OF THE WORLD 


before him, liis keen eyes discovered Cleanor under 
his disguise. He had, of course, too much delicacy 
and good taste to inflict upon him the pain of a pub- 
lic recognition. The young man was transported 
in a closed litter to a hunting-lodge that belonged 
to the prince. Here he found himself an honoured 
guest. His personal wants were amply supplied ; 
a library of some extent was at his disposal ; and 
the chief huntsman waited upon him every morning 
to learn his pleasure in case he should be disposed 
for an expedition. 

In the course of a few days a letter from the 
prince was put into his hands. Beginning with a 
tactful and sympathetic reference to his misfort- 
unes, it went on thus : 

Use my home as if it were your own for as long 
as you wilL You cannot please me better than by 
pleasing yourself . But if you are minded to find 
solace for your sorrows in action — and to this 1 
would myself advise you— proceed to Cirta , and 
deliver the letter which I enclose herewith to the 
Icing, my father. My steward will provide you 
with a guide and an escort , and will also furnish 
such matters of dress and other equipment as you 
may need. Farewell ! 

Cleanor’ s resolution was taken at once. In the 
course of a few hours he was in the saddle. Two 


THE LAST OF A VETERAN 


19 


days of easy travel brought him to Cirta, and lie 
lost no time in presenting himself at the palace of 
King Masinissa. His letter of introduction, bearing 
as it did the seal of Prince Mastanabal, procured 
for him instant admission. The major-domo of the 
palace conducted him to a guest-chamber, and 
shortly afterwards one of the king’s body-guard 
brought him a message that Masinissa desired to 
see him as soon as he had refreshed himself after 
his journey. 

The chamber into which the young Greek was 
ushered was curiously bare to be the audience-room 
of a powerful king. The walls were of mud, roughly 
washed with yellow ; it was lighted by two large 
openings in the walls, unglazed, but furnished with 
lattices which could be closed at will by cords sus- 
pended from them ; the pavement was of stone, not 
too carefully smoothed ; for furniture it had a side- 
board, with some cups, flagons, and lamps upon it, 
a table, two or three chairs for the use of visitors 
who were accustomed to these comfortless refine- 
ments, and a divan piled up with bright-coloured 
mats and blankets. Near the divan was a brazier 
in which logs were smouldering. 

Masinissa, king of Numidia , 1 was a man whose 
intellect and pl^sical powers were alike remarkable. 
He had consolidated the wandering tribes of North- 

1 Numidia corresponds roughly to Algeria, Mauretania to Morocco. 


20 


LORDS OF THE WORLD 


ern Africa into a kingdom, which he had kept to- 
gether and aggrandized with a politic firmness which 
never blundered or wavered. His stature, though 
now somewhat bowed with years, was exceptional. 
His face, seamed with a thousand wrinkles, and 
burnt to a dark red by unnumbered suns, the snowy 
whiteness of hair and beard, and the absolute ema- 
ciation of his form, on which not a trace of flesh 
seemed to be left, spoke of extreme old age. And 
indeed he had more than completed his ninetieth 
year, an age not phenomenally rare among us, 
where the climate and the habits of life are less ex- 
hausting, but almost unheard of in a race whose 
fervid temperament seems to match their burning 
sky. 

The old man’s strength was now failing him. 
Two years before, he had commanded an army in 
the field, and commanded it with brilliant success, 
routing the best troops and the most skilled generals 
that Carthage could send against him. He was not 
one of the veterans who content themselves with 
counsel, while they leave action to the young. 
That day he had remained in the saddle from sun- 
rise to sunset, managing without difficulty a fiery 
steed, whose saddle was no seat of ease. He had 
showed that on occasion he could deal as shrewd a 
blow with the sword, and throw as straight a jave- 
lin, as many men of half his age. But at ninety 


THE LAST OF A VETERAN 


21 


years of age two or three years may make a great 
difference. Masinissa had fought his last battle. 
His senses were as keen as ever, the eyes flashed 
with their old fire, but his breathing was heavy and 
laboured, and his hands shook with the palsy of 
age. 

“ Welcome, Cleanor!” he said, with a full res- 
onant voice that years had not touched, “ my son 
commends you to me. Can you be content to wait 
on an old man for a month or so? I shall hardly 
trouble you longer. I have never been a whole day 
within doors, save once for a spear wound in the 
throat, and once when they tried to poison me ; and 
those who have lived in such fashion don’t take 
long about dying.” 

Cleanor found his task an easy one. The old 
king suffered little, except from the restlessness 
which comes with extreme exhaustion. Even over 
this he maintained a remarkable control. It was 
not during his waking hours, but in his short pe- 
riods of fitful slumber, that the uneasy movements 
of his limbs might be observed. His intelligence 
was as keen as ever, and his memory curiously ex- 
act, though it was on the far past that it chiefly 
dwelt. What a story the young Greek could have 
pieced together out of the old man’s recollections! 
He had seen and known the heroes of the last fierce 
struggle between Carthage and Rome, had ridden 


22 


LORDS OF THE WORLD 


by the side of the great Scipio at Zama, and had 
been within an ace of capturing the famous Hanni- 
bal himself as he fled from that fatal field. The 
young Greek, surprised to find himself in such a 
position, was naturally curious to know why the 
old man preferred the companionship of a stranger 
to that of his own kindred. When he ventured to 
hint something of the kind, the king smiled cynically. 

“You don’t understand,” he said, “ the amiable 
ways of such a household as mine. What do you 
think would have been the result if I had chosen 
one of my three sons to be with me now ? Why, 
furious jealousy and plots without end on the part 
of the other two. And if I had had the three of 
them together? Well, I certainly could not have 
expected to die in peace. Quarrel they certainly 
will, but I can’t have them quarrelling here. Mind, 
I don’t say that they are worse than other sons ; on 
the contrary, they are better. I do hope they may 
live in peace when I am gone ; at least, I have done 
my best to secure it.” 

As the days passed, the king grew weaker and 
weaker, but his faculties were never clouded, and 
his cheerfulness was unimpaired. 

About ten days after the conversation recorded 
above, a Greek physician, whose reputation was 
widely spread in Northern Africa, arrived at the 
palace. The three princes had sent him. Masinissa, 


THE LAST OF A VETERAN 


23 


informed of his coming, made no difficulty about 
seeing him. “ I am not afraid of being poisoned,” 
he said, with a smile ; “I really do not think that 
my sons would do such a thing. It would not be 
worth while, and, anyhow, they could not agree 
about it. Yes, let him come in. Of course he can’t 
do me any good ; but it is one of the penalties that 
has to be paid for greatness, that one must die ac- 
cording to rule. No one of any repute is allowed 
to die in these parts without having Timseus to help 
him off. Yes, I will see him. And mind, Cleanor, 
when he has examined me have a talk with him, 
and make him tell you the absolute truth.” 

That afternoon, soon after the physician had de- 
parted, the king summoned the young Greek to his 
chamber. 

“Well, what does he say, Cleanor?” he asked. 

The young man hesitated. 

“Come,” cried the old king, raising his voice, “I 
command you to speak. As for these physicians, 
it is quite impossible for a patient to get the truth 
out of them. It seems to be a point of honour not 
to tell it. But I suppose he told it to you. Speak 
out, man; you don’t suppose that I am afraid of 
what I have faced pretty nearly every day for 
nearly fourscore years.” 

“He said,” answered Cleanor, in a low voice, 
“ that your time, sire, was nearly come.” 


24 


LORDS OF THE WORLD 


“ And how many days, or, I should rather say, 
hours did he give me?” 

“He said that you could hardly live more than 
two days.” 

“Well, I am ready. I have had my turn, a full 
share of the feast of life, and it would be a shame- 
ful thing if I was to grudge to go. But there is 
trouble ahead for those who are to come after me. 
I have done my best for my kingdom, yet nothing 
can save it long. You know, I had to choose, when 
I was about your age, between Rome and Carthage, 
and my choice was the right one. If I had taken 
sides with Carthage, Rome would have swallowed 
up this kingdom fifty years ago ; as it is, she will 
swallow us up fifty years hence. Sooner or later 
we are bound to go. But it has lasted my time, 
and will last my sons’ time too, if they are wise. 
And now, as to this matter. I have something to 
put in your charge. You have heard of Scipio ? ” 

Cleanor nodded his assents 

“He came over here some two months ago, when 
I had had my first warning that my time was short, 
and that I had best set my affairs in order. Ho one 
had any notion but that he came on military busi- 
ness. The Romans had asked me for help, and I 
didn’t choose to give it just then. They hadn’t 
consulted me in what they had done, and it was 
time, I thought, that they should have a lesson. 


THE LAST OF A VETERAN 


25 


We did discuss these matters ; but what he really 
came for was a more serious affair. I left it to him 
to divide my kingdom between my three sons. I 
had thought of dividing it in the usual way ; this 
and that province to one, and this and that prov- 
ince to another. But he had quite another plan in 
his head, and it seemed to me wonderfully shrewd. 
‘Don’t divide the kingdom,’ he said; ‘the three 
parts would be too weak to stand alone. Divide 
the offices of the kingdom. Let each prince have 
the part for which he is best fitted — one war and 
outside affairs, another justice, the third one civil 
affairs.’ Well, I took his advice, and had his set- 
tlement put in writing. The chief priest of the 
temple of Zeus in Cirta here has the document in 
his keeping.” 

After this the old man was silent for a time. 
Rousing himself again, for he had been inclined to 
doze, he said : 

“ Cleanor, are you here ? ” 

“Yes, sire,” replied the Greek. 

“Don’t leave me till all is over. And now give 
me a cup of wine.” 

“But, sire, the physician said ” 

“Pooh ! what does it matter if I die one hour or 
two or three hours before sunrise? And I want 
something that will give me a little strength.” 

Cleanor filled a cup and handed it to the king. 


26 


LORDS OR THE WORLD 


“It hardly tastes as good as usual,” said the old 
man, when he had drained it, “yet that, I can easily 
believe, is not the wine’s fault, but mine. But tell 
me, do you think that I shall know anything about 
what is going on here when I am gone ? What does 
Mastanabal say? I haven’t had time to think 
about these things ; but he reads, and you are some- 
thing of a student, too. What do the philosophers 
say ? ” 

“Aristotle thinks, sire, that the dead may very 
well know something about the fortunes of their 
descendants — it would be almost inhuman, he says, 
if they did not — but that it will not be enough to 
make them either happy or unhappy.” 

“Well, the less one knows the better, when one 
comes to think. To see things going wrong and not 
be able to interfere ! . . . But enough of this. 

. . . And now, Cleanor, about yourself. You do 
not love the Romans, I think ? ” 

The young Greek’s face flushed at the question. 

“ I have no reason to love them, sire.” 

“ Very likely not. Indeed, who does love them ? 
Not I ; if I could crush them I would, as readily as 
I stamp my foot on a viper’s head. But that is not 
the question. Can you make use of them ? You 
shake your head. It does not suit your honour to 
pretend a friendship which you do not feel. That 
has not been my rule, as you know, but there is 


THE LAST OF A VETERAN 


27 


something to be said for it.. Well, it is a pity that 
you can’t walk that way. Whether we love them 
or no, depend upon it, the future belongs to them. 
And I could have helped you with some of their 
great men. I have written a letter to Scipio, and 
two or three others to powerful people in Rome who 
would help you for my sake. You can deliver 
them or not, as you please. But tell me, what are 
you going to do if the Romans are out of the ques- 
tion ? ” 

“I thought of going to Carthage,” answered the 
young man in a hesitating voice. 

“ Carthage ! ” repeated the king in astonishment. 
“Why, the place is doomed. It can’t hold out 
more than a year — or two at the outside. And 
then the Romans won’ t leave so much as one stone 
standing upon another. They won’ t run the chance 
of having another Hannibal to deal with. Car- 
thage ! You might as well put a noose round 
your neck at once ! ” 

“I hope not, sire,” said the young man. “And 
in any case I have only Carthage and Rome to 
choose between.” 

“ Well,” replied the old king after a pause, “ you 
must go your own way. But still I can help you, 
at least with some provision for the journey. Put 
your hand under my pillow and you will find a 
key.” 


28 


LORDS OF TIIE WORLD 


The young man did as lie was told. 

“Now open that chest in yonder corner, and 
bring me a casket that you will find wrapped up in 
a crimson shawl.” 

Cleanor brought the casket and put it into the 
king’s hands. Masinissa unlocked it and took out 
a rouleau of gold pieces, which he gave to Cleanor. 
“That will be useful for the present,” he said; 
“but gold is a clumsy thing, and you can hardly 
carry about with you what would serve for a single 
year. This bit of parchment is an order for a thou- 
sand ounces of gold— five hundred thousand ses- 
terces in Roman money — onCaius Rabirius, knight, 
of the Ccelian Hill in Rome, who has kept some 
money for me for thirty years or more. You can 
sell the parchment to Bocchar the banker in Cirta 
here. He will charge you something for his com- 
mission, but it will save you trouble. And he will 
keep the money for you, or whatever part of it you 
please. It is a very handy way of carrying about 
money ; but there is another that is more handy 
still.” 

The old man took out a small leather bag full of 
precious stones. “These,” he said, “you can al- 
ways hide. It is true that the merchants will cheat 
you more or less when you want to sell them. Still, 
you will find these stones very useful.” 

The jewels were worth at least five times as much 



THE OLD KING, THOUGH HIS EYES WERE OPEN, DID NOT 
SEEM TO SEE CLEANOR ” 


























































- • . 












THE LAST OF A VETERAN 


29 


as the order on the parchment. “It is too much,” 
murmured the Greek. “ I did not expect ■” 

“It is true that you did not expect. I have seen 
that all along, and that is one of the reasons why I 
give it. And as for the 6 too much,’ you must leave 
me to judge about that. My sons will find treasure 
enough when they come to divide my goods between 
them. I have been saving all my life, and this is 
but a trifle which they will not miss, and which you 
will find very useful. And now give me another 
cup of wine. After this I will sleep a while. You 
will stay — and don’t let that young villain Jugur- 
tha come near me.” 

Two or three hours afterwards Cleanor was star- 
tled to see the old man raise himself in bed, a thing 
which he had not been able to do without help for 
three or four days past. He hastened to the bed- 
side, but the king, though his eyes were wide open, 
did not seem to see him. Yet something there was 
that he saw ; his was no vacant stare, but a look 
full of tenderness. Then he began to speak, and 
his voice had a soft tone of which Cleanor could 
not have believed it capable. 

“ So, sweetest and fairest, you have not forgotten 
me ; you, as all men know, no one can forget. Why 
am I in such haste? Nay, dearest, look in your 
mirror for an answer. And besides, when you are 
mine, the Romans can have nothing more to say. 


30 


LORDS OF THE WORLD 


Till to-morrow, then — but stay, let me give you a 
little token. Nay ” — and liis voice changed in an 
instant to a note of horror — “ what, pray, has 
changed my love-gift into this ? Faugh 1 ” 

And with a gesture as of one who dashed some- 
thing to the ground, he sank down upon the bed, 
and in another moment was sleeping again. 1 

Early the next morning the king’s three sons, who 
had heard the physician’s report of their father’s 
health, arrived at the palace. Their emotion, as 
they knelt by the dying king, was genuine, though 
probably not very deep. The old man was perfectly 
self-possessed and calm. 

“My sons,” he said, “I have done my best for 
you. Probably you will not like it. What is there, 
indeed, that you would all like? But lay your 
hands on m}^ head and swear that you will accept 
what I have done. What it is you had best not 


1 In his youth Masinissa was betrothed to Sophonisba, the accomplished 
and beautiful daughter of Hasdrubal, son of Gisco. The engagement was 
broken off for political reasons. Hasdrubal made Sophonisba’s hand the 
price of an alliance which he wished Syphax, Masinissa’s rival in the struggle 
for the Numidian throne, to contract with Carthage. In the war that fol- 
lowed, Syphax was defeated, first by the Romans, afterwards by Masinissa 
himself, who took Cirta, his capital, and in it Sophonisba. To marry her at 
once seemed to the conqueror the only way of saving her from the Romans. 
But the marriage did not suit the policy of Rome, which dreaded the hostile 
influence which such a woman might exercise. Scipio (the Elder), who was 
in command, insisted that Sophonisba should be given up ; and Masinissa, to 
save her the humiliation of captivity, sent her a cup of poison. 


THE LAST OF A VETERAN 


31 


know till I am gone. But trust me that I have 
been just to all of you.” 

The princes took the oath. 

“ Cleanor here knows where I have put away my 
testament, but he is bound by me not to tell till I 
am buried. And now farewell ! Don’t wait for the 
end. You will have your hands full, I warrant, as 
soon as the tribes know that the old man is gone.” 

The princes left the room and the old man turned 
his face to the wall and seemed to sleep. All the 
rest of that day Cleanor watched, but noticed no 
change. Just before dawn he heard the sleeper 
draw two or three deep breaths. He bade the slave 
who was in waiting in the ante-cliamber call the 
physician. 

But the man of science found no movement either 
of pulse or heart. When he held a mirror to the 
mouth, there was not the faintest sign of breath 
upon it. The world had seen the last of one of the 
most wonderful of its veterans. 


32 


LORDS OF THE WORLD 


CHAPTER IV 

SCIPIO 

T HE old king’s body was roughly embalmed, in 
order to give some time before the celebration 
of the funeral. This was a more splendid and im- 
pressive ceremony than had ever been witnessed in 
that region. The news of Masinissa’s death had 
been carried far into the interior with that strange, 
almost incredible rapidity with which great tidings 
commonly travel in countries that have no regular 
means of communication. The old man had been 
one of the most prominent figures in Northern Africa 
for a space more than equal to an ordinary lifetime. 
Nor had he been one of the rulers who shut them- 
selves up in their palaces, and are known, not in 
their persons, but by their acts. His long life had 
been spent, one might say, in the saddle. There was 
not a chief in the whole region that had not met 
him, either as friend or as foe. Many had heard 
from their fathers or grandfathers the traditions of 
his craft as a ruler and his prowess as a warrior, 
and now they came in throngs to pay him the last 
honours. From the slopes of the Atlas range far to 
the west, and from the south as far as the edge of 
what is now called the Algerian Sahara, came the 


SCIPIO 


33 


desert chiefs, some of them men who had never been 
seen within the walls of a city. For that day, at 
least, were suspended all the feuds of the country, 
many and deadly as they were. It was the greatest, 
as it was the last, honour that could be paid to the 
great chief who had done so much to join these 
warring atoms into a harmonious whole. 

The bier was carried by representatives of the 
states which had owned the late king’s sway. Be- 
hind it walked his three sons ; these again were fol- 
lowed by the splendid array of the war-elephants 
with their gorgeous trappings. The wise beasts, 
whom the degenerate successors of the old African 
races have never been able to tame , 1 seemed to feel 
the nature of the occasion, and walked with slow 
step and downcast mien. Behind the elephants 
came, rank after rank, what seemed an almost inter- 
minable cavalcade of horsemen. The procession 
was finished by detachments of Roman troops, both 
infantry and cavalry, a striking contrast, with their 
regular equipment and discipline, to the wild riders 
from the plains and hills of the interior. 

The funeral over, there was a great banquet, a 
scene of wild and uproarious festivity — a not un- 
natural reaction from the enforced gravity of the 
morning’ s proceedings. Cleanor, who had the sober 

1 It is the Asiatic elephant only that has been domesticated in modern 
times, and taught to utilize his strength in the service of man. 

3 


34 


LORDS OF THE WORLD 


habits which belonged to the best type of Greeks, 
took the first opportunity that courtesy allowed of 
withdrawing from the revel. 

He made his way to a secluded spot which he 
had discovered in the wild garden or park attached 
to the palace, and threw himself down on the turf, 
near a little waterfall. The fatigues of the day, 
for he had taken a great part in the ordering of 
the morning’s ceremonial, and the exhausting heat 
of the banqueting hall had predisposed him to 
sleep, and the lulling murmur of the water com- 
pleted the charm. 

When he awoke, he found that he was no longer 
alone. A stranger in Roman dress was standing 
by, and looking down upon him with a kindly 
smile. When the young Greek had collected his 
thoughts, he remembered that he had already seen 
and been impressed by the new-comer’s features 
and bearing. Then it dawned upon him that he 
was the officer in command of the detachment of 
Roman soldiers that had been present at the obse- 
quies of the king. 

And, indeed, the man was not one to be hastily 
passed over, or lightly forgotten. In the full vigour 
of manhood — he was just about to complete his 
thirty -seventh year — he presented a rare combina- 
tion of strength and refinement. His face had the 
regularity and fine chiselling of the Greek type, the 


SCIPIO 


35 


nose, however, having something of the aquiline 
form, which is so often one of the outward charac- 
teristics of military genius. The beauty of the 
features was set off by the absence of moustache 
and beard, a fashion then making its way in Italy, 
but still uncommon elsewhere. To the Greek it at 
once suggested the familiar artistic conception of 
the beardless Apollo. 

But the eyes were the most remarkable feature 
of the face. They expressed with a rare force, as 
the occasion demanded, kindliness, a penetrating 
intelligence, or a righteous indignation against evil. 
But over and above these expressions, they had from 
time to time a look of inspiration. They seemed to 
see something that was outside and beyond mortal 
limits. In after years it was often said of Scipio — 
my readers will have guessed that I am speaking 
of Scipio — that he talked with the gods. Ordinary 
observers did not perceive, or did not understand it. 
To a keen and sensitive nature, such as Cleanor’s, 
it appealed with a force that may almost be called 
irresistible. All this did not reveal itself imme- 
diately to the young man, but he felt at once, as no 
one ever failed to feel, the inexplicable charm of 
Scipio’ s personality. 

‘‘So you, too,” said the Roman, “have escaped 
from the revellers ? ” 

Cleanor made a movement as if to rise. 


36 


LOKDS OF THE WOULD 


“ Nay,” said the other, “ do not disturb yourself. 
Let me find a place by you ; ” and he seated himself 
on the grass. “ What a home for a naiad is this 
charming little spring ! But you will say that a 
Roman has no business to be talking of naiads. It 
is true, perhaps. Our hills, our streams, our oaks 
have no such presences in them. We have borrowed 
them from you. Our deities are practical. We have 
a goddess that makes the butter to come in the 
churn, curdles the milk for the cheese, and helps 
the cow to calve. There is not a function or an 
employment that has not got its patron or pa- 
troness. But we have not peopled the world of 
nature with the gracious and beautiful presences 
which your poets have imagined. Nor, I fancy,” 
he added, with a smile, “ have your African friends 
done so.” 

Cleanor, who would in any case have been too 
courteous to show to a casual stranger the hostility 
which he cherished against the Roman nation, felt 
at once the charm of the speaker’s manner. He was 
struck, too, by the purity of the Roman’s Greek 
accent, and by the elegance of his language, with 
which no fault could have been found except, per- 
haps, that it was more literary than colloquial. 
He laughingly acknowledged the compliment which 
the Roman had paid to the poetical genius of his 
countrymen. 


SCIPIO 


37 


A brisk conversation on literary topics followed. 
Cleanor, who was of a studious turn, had spent a 
year at Athens, listening to the philosophical 
teachers who were the successors of Plato at the 
Academy, and another year at Rhodes, then the 
most famous rhetorical school in the world. Scipio, 
on the other hand, was one of the best-read men of 
his age. He was a soldier and a politician, and had 
distinguished himself in both capacities, but his 
heart was given to letters. In private life he sur- 
rounded himself with the best representatives of 
Greek and Roman culture. He now found in the 
young Greek, with whose melancholy history he was 
acquainted, a congenial spirit. Cleanor, on the other 
hand, who had something of the Greek’s readiness 
to look down upon all outsiders as barbarians, was 
astonished to see how wide and how deep were the 
attainments of his new acquaintance. 

The two thus brought together had many oppor- 
tunities of improving the acquaintance thus begun. 
Scipio had to carry out the details of the division 
of royal functions mentioned in my last chapter. 
This was not a thing to be done in a day. The three 
brothers accepted the principle readily enough, 
though they felt that the one to whom the army 
had been allotted had the lion’s share of power. 
But when the principles came to be applied there 
were endless jealousies and differences of opinion. 


38 


LORDS OF THE WORLD 


It required all Scipio’s tact and personal influence 
to keep the peace unbroken. 

When this complicated business was finished, or 
at least put in a fair way of being finished, an un- 
toward event cut short Scipio’s sojourn in Africa. 
Two new commanders came out to take charge of 
the Roman army before Carthage. Scipio knew 
them to be rash and incompetent, and was unwilling 
to incur the responsibility of serving under them. 
Accordingly he asked for permission to resign his 
command — he held the rank of tribune . 1 The con- 
suls, on the other hand, were not a little jealous of 
their subordinate’s reputation, and, above all, of 
his name. A Scipio at Carthage had a prestige 
which no one else could hope to rival, and they 
were glad to get rid of him. 

This interruption of an acquaintance which was 
rapidly ripening into friendship had an important 
bearing on Cleanor’s life. If anyone could have 
reconciled him to Rome, Scipio was the man. 
Scipio gone, the old feelings, only too well justified 
as they were, revived in full force. Hostilit} r to 
Rome became, indeed, the absorbing passion of his 
life. It was a passion, however, which he concealed 
with the finesse natural to his race. For the pres- 
ent his purpose could, he conceived, be better served 

1 About equivalent to a colonel in our army. There were five tribunes in 
the legion or brigade, and these commanded in turn. 


A GREAT SCHEME 


39 


outside the walls of Carthage than within them. 
Accordingly he accepted an offer from Mastanabal 
that he should undertake the duties of a private 
secretary. 


CHAPTER V 

A GREAT SCHEME 

S CIPIO’S forebodings as to the incapacity of the 
new generals were rapidly justified. The siege 
operations had not been uniformly successful before 
they took over the command. There had been losses 
as well as gains. Still, on the whole, the besiegers 
had the balance of advantage. The defence had 
been broken down at more points than one. Car- 
thage was distinctly in a worse position than it had 
been three months after the breaking out of the 
war. The besieged had done some damage to the 
Roman fleet, had burnt a considerable extent of 
siege- works, and had suffered a distinctly smaller 
loss in killed and wounded than they had been able 
to inflict on their assailants. 

But if the damage that they suffered was less 
than that which they did, still it was less capable 
of being repaired, often indeed could not be repaired 
at all. If a ship was burnt, they could not build an- 


40 


LORDS OF THE WORLD 


other ; the losses of the garrison could not be filled 
up ; the general waste of strength could not be re- 
paired. Carthage, in short, had only itself to draw 
upon as a reserve ; Rome had all the countries that 
bordered on the Mediterranean, from Greece west- 
ward. These were advantages which were certain 
to tell in the long run, but meanwhile much might 
occur to delay the final victory. 

The first thing to happen in the Roman camp was 
that supplies began to fall short. The country round 
Carthage was, of course, so much wasted by this 
time that practically nothing could be drawn from 
it. Further off, indeed, there was plenty of food 
and forage, but the natives showed no readiness in 
bringing it into camp. The fact was that there was 
no market ; buyers there were in plenty, but not 
buyers with money in hand, for the military chest 
was empty, and the pay of the soldiers months in 
arrear. 

The consequence of this was that the Roman 
generals practically raised the siege of Carthage, 
and devoted their time and strength to reducing the 
Carthaginian towns, hoping thus to supply their 
wants. But in this attempt they made very little 
progress. They began by attacking the town of 
Clypea. Here they failed. The fleet could not make 
its way into the harbour, which the townspeople 
had effectually protected by sinking a couple of 


A GREAT SCHEME 


41 


ships in the entrance, and the Roman engineers 
could not reach the walls of the town. 

They had better fortune with another small town 
in the neighbourhood, though their success was 
gained in a not very creditable way. The towns- 
people were disposed to come to terms, and a con- 
ference between their representatives and the Roman 
generals was accordingly held. Terms were agreed 
upon, and the agreement had been actually signed, 
when some soldiers made their way into the town. 
The Romans at once broke up the meeting, and 
treated the place as if it had been taken by storm. 
This conduct was, of course, as unwise as it was 
wicked. Next to nothing was gained by the false- 
hood, while every Carthaginian dependency resolved 
to resist to the uttermost. 

Hippo was the next place to be attacked. After 
Carthage and Utica — the Roman head-quarters were 
at Utica — Hippo was the largest and most impor- 
tant town in Northern Africa. Its docks, its har- 
bour, its walls were on a grand scale. Two hundred 
years before, Agatliocles, tyrant of Syracuse, in his 
desperate struggle with Carthage, had made it the 
base of his operations. A lavish expenditure, di- 
rected by the best engineers of the time, had made 
it almost impregnable. 

The Roman generals had, indeed, excellent rea- 
sons for attacking it. Till it was in their power, 


42 


LORDS OF THE WORLD 


they could hardly hope to capture Carthage, for it 
stood almost between their own head-quarters and 
that city, and commanded the route by which 
stores had to be carried to the besieging army. But 
the Roman forces were quite unequal to the under- 
taking. Twice did the people of Hippo, helped by 
a sally from Carthage, destroy the siege-works, and 
when the time for retiring to winter quarters ar- 
rived, nothing had been accomplished by the be- 
siegers. 

All this did vast damage to the prestige of the 
Romans. Far-seeing persons were convinced, as I 
have said, that the future belonged to them ; but 
ordinary observers began to think, and not without 
some excuse, that their decline had begun. Among 
these were two out of three sons of King Masi- 
nissa. Possibly dissatisfaction had something to 
do with their state of mind. Each had expected to 
get more than Scipio’s award had given him ; both 
grudged to Gulussa the command of the troops, 
suspecting that this meant in the end their own 
subjection to him. Gulussa himself seemed to be 
still loyal to Rome, but the general discontent had 
not failed to reach some of the high placed officers 
in his army. 

Cleanor was still with Mastanabal, and, of course, 
watched the progress of affairs with intense interest. 
His hopes rose high when tidings reached the palace 


A GREAT SCHEME 


43 


that the Romans had abandoned the siege of Hippo. 
At the evening meal that day the subject was dis- 
cussed, but in a very guarded way, for the prince 
was still, at least in name, an ally of Rome, and 
his young secretary, for this was the office which 
Cleanor now filled, was too discreet to ignore the 
fact. The hour for retiring had almost come when 
the confidential slave who waited on the prince 
hurriedly entered the chamber and placed a letter 
in his hands. It was a double tablet closely bound 
together with cords of crimson silk, these again 
being secured by seals. Hastily cutting the cords 
with the dagger which he carried at his waist, the 
prince read the communication with that impassive 
and inscrutable look which it is one of the necessi- 
ties of a despotic ruler to acquire. Rising shortly 
after from table he bade the young Greek good- 
night, but added, as if by an after- thought, “But 
stay, I have a book, a new acquisition, to show 
you. Come into the library.” 

The library was a small inner room, of a semi- 
circular shape, which opened out of the dining-hall. 
It had this great advantage, contemplated, no 
doubt, by the builder who designed it, that conver- 
sations held in it could not by any possibility be 
overheard. It had an outer wall everywhere except 
on the side which adjoined the dining-hall. It was 
built on columns, so that no one could listen be- 


44 


LORDS OF THE WORLD 


neath, and there was no storey over it. As long as 
the outer chamber was empty, absolute secrecy was 
ensured. Only a bird of the air could carry the 
matters discussed in it. 

“ Listen, Cleanor,” said the prince, and pro- 
ceeded to read the following letter : 

Hasdrubal , son of Gisco , to King Mastanabal 
greeting. Know that if you would save Africa , 
now , and now only , you have the opportunity. 
The Romans have fled from Hippo fewer by a 
third than when they first attached it. Bithyas , 
commander of GulusscC s cavalry , has come over 
to us with seven hundred of his best troopers. 
Strike then along with us such a blow as shall 
rid us -of this devouring Beast now and for ever. 
Else you shall yourself surely be devoured. 
Think not that when Carthage is destroyed, there 
shall be any hope left for Numidia. Farewell! 

“What think you of this, Cleanor?” the king 
asked, after a pause. “ I know well enough that 
you have no liking for the Romans. Indeed, why 
should you? But you can judge of how things 
stand ; judge, doubtless, better in some ways than I 
can, for there are many things that we kings never 
see. Speak frankly. No one can overhear us.” 

“Sire,” replied the young Greek, “it wants, I 
fear, more wisdom than I possess to give you any 


A GREAT SCHEME 


45 


profitable counsel. I hate Rome, but I fear her. 
She makes blunders without number, but always 
manages to succeed in the end. She chooses mere 
fools and braggarts for her generals, but always 
finds the right man at last. So I read her histo^. 
There was a time when everyone believed that 
Hannibal would make an end of her, and yet she 
survived. She lost army after army, yet conquered 
in the end. After a Flaminius and a Varro 1 she 
found a Scipio. And she has a Scipio now. I saw* 
him, sire, the other day, and felt that he was a 
great man.” 

“But he is too young,” interrupted the king. 
“ He wants some five years yet of the age when he 
can be put in chief command.” 

“True, sire ; but when a man is absolutely nec- 
essary they will have him, be he young or old.” 

“ Then there is their unending civil strife. What 
of that ! ” 

“It makes for us, no doubt. But even that they 
can drop on occasion.” 

After a pause of some minutes Mastanabal spoke 
again. 

“Then, what do you advise ?” 

“ Sire,” replied the young Greek, “I would ad- 
vise you for the present to do nothing. Let me an- 

1 Flaminius commanded at the disastrous battle of Lake Trasumennus, 
Varro at the still more disastrous defeat of Cannae. 


46 


LORDS OF THE WORLD 


swer this letter in person, and answer it as I think 
best, if you can trust me so far. I have a plan, for 
I have been thinking of these matters night and day. 
But don’t ask me what it is. It is better that you 
should know nothing about it. I will start at once. 
It might look well if you were to send some troopers 
in pursuit. Of course they must not catch me. 
Put Juba in command, and we may rely on their 
not being too active.” 

“ Will you carry any token from me?” asked the 
king. 

“No, sire, it is better not. Let me have the let- 
ter ; that will be enough. Will you forgive me if 
I steal Whitefoot from her stable ?” 

“Take her or any other horse that you want. 
Have you money enough ? ” 

“Ample, sire ; your good father provided me with 
that.” 

‘ ‘ Then, farewell ! Y ou make me curious, but I sup- 
pose that I may not ask any questions. In any case, 
and whatever happens, count me as a sure friend.” 

Before midnight Cleanor was well on his way to 
Carthage. At the first signs of dawn he drew rein, 
and halted for the day at a small cluster of palms, 
where there was abundance of herbage for his horse. 
Starting again at nightfall he reached the camp of 
Hasdrubal just as the light was showing itself in 
the east. The camp, it should be explained, was 


A GREAT SCHEME 


47 


pitched outside the city. The larger half of the 
Carthaginian army occupied it. The remainder of 
the troops were stationed within the walls under 
the command of another Hasdrubal. 

Cleanor, who had contrived to learn something 
about the arrangements of the camp, gave himself 
up into the hands of the officer commanding an out- 
lying picket. Hasdrubal’ s letter proved, as he had 
anticipated, a sufficient passport, and he was con- 
ducted, after taking a few hours’ rest, into the 
general’s presence. 

The personality of Hasdrubal was not by any 
means attractive, and Cleanor could not help com- 
paring his puny physique and sinister expression 
with the commanding figure and noble countenance 
of Scipio. The Carthaginian may be best described 
by saying that he resembled the more ignoble type 
of Jew. It is often forgotten that the Phoenician 
race, of which the Carthaginian people was the 
principal offshoot, was closely akin to the Hebrew 
in blood and language . 1 Hasdrubal showed the 
relationship plainly enough. His black, ringlety 
hair, prominent nose, thick, sensual lips, and keen 
but shifty eyes, were just such as might have been 


i Carthage was Kirjath-Hadeschath, the “ new town ” (opposed to Tyre, 
which was the old) ; its chief magistrates were Shophetim (Latinized into 
Suffetes), the Hebrew word for “judges.” Barca was a well-known name, 
corresponding to the Hebrew Barak, and meaning “ lightning.” 


48 


LORDS OF THE WORLD 


seen at that day in the meaner quarters of Jeru- 
salem or Alexandria (then become the second capital 
of the Jews), and at the present time in the London 
Whitechapel or the Roman Ghetto. 

On the present occasion, however, Hasdrubal wore 
his most pleasing expression. He was genuinely 
delighted to see Cleanor, as much delighted as he was 
astonished, for he had taken it for granted that the 
young man had perished in the destruction of Chelys. 

“Hail, Cleanor ! ” he cried with a heartiness that 
was not in the least affected. “ What good fortune 
has restored you to us? we had long given you up 
as dead.” 

Cleanor gave him in the fewest possible words a 
sketch of what had happened. 

“ And what can I do for you ?” continued Has- 
drubal. “ If, as I hope, you are come to join us, I 
can find plenty of work for you. Things are look- 
ing more bright for Carthage than they have done 
for years past. We shall soon have all Africa with 
us. When that happens the Romans will have 
nothing left them but the ground that they stand 
on, and even that, I hope, not very long. You have 
heard of Bithyas with his squadron coming over to 
us ? We shall soon have the rest of Gulussa’ s army 
following him, and then there will be Gulussa him- 
self and his brothers. You have been in Mastana- 
bal’s household ; tell me how he stands.” 


A GREAT SCHEME 


4i) 


Cleanor produced in answer HasdrubaFs own let- 
ter. “The king’s position,” lie went on, “ is a very 
difficult one, and he must act with the greatest cau- 
tion in your interests as well as in his own. If he 
declares himself too soon, his brothers will most 
certainly take the other side. What is wanted is 
a combination so strong as to compel all the three 
to declare themselves together. He wishes well to 
you ; that I can say positively,” 

“ That is good as far as it goes, though I should 
have liked something more definite.” 

“May I put before you,” said Cleanor, “an idea 
which has been working for some time in my head ? 
I am afraid that it is somewhat presumptuous in a 
youth such as I am to discuss such things ; still, if 

you are willing to hear ” 

“ Say on, my young friend,” cried the Cartha- 
ginian ; “a son of your house is not likely to say 
anything but what is worth hearing.” 

“I spoke of a combination which would enable 
Mastanabal to declare himself. Don’t you think 
such a combination might be made among all those 
who hate Rome or fear her ? First there is my own 
nation. The League 1 is, I have heard, little satis- 


1 By the “League” Cleanor means the Achaean League, a combination orig- 
inally of the cities of Achaia proper, or the southern shore of the Corin- 
thian Gulf, but afterwards extended over the greater part of Mainland 
Greece. 




4 


50 


LORDS OF THE WORLD 


lied with its powerful friends, and it needs only a 
little blowing to set that fire a-blazing. Then there 
are the Macedonians, who haven’t forgotten that 
they were masters of the world not so very long 
ago. There is Syria, there is Egypt, both of them 
afraid of being swallowed up before long. There 
are the Jews, kinsmen of your own, I believe Is it 
not so? ” 

“ Yes,” said the Carthaginian, “kinsmen, but not 
friends I fear that we shall not get much help 
there.” 

“Then there is Spain. What do you know, sir, 
of Spain \ Is there any chance of a rising ? ” 

“The northern tribes 1 still hold their own, but 
they will hardly go outside their own borders. 
They are quite content to be free themselves with- 
out thinking of others. Still, there is something 
that might be done in Spain. Only, unluckily, the 
Spaniards don’t love us any more than they love 
the Romans. Perhaps they love us rather less. 
However, this is a promising scheme of yours, my 
young friend. Ah ! if it had not been for you 
Greeks we should have had all the shores of the 
Sea 2 long ago. We never could get you out of 

1 The Cantabri (now the Basques), who were not subdued by Rome for 
more than a century after this time. 

2 By the “ Sea ” Hasdrubal means the Mediterranean ; outside the Pillars 
of Hercules (Gibraltar and Tangiers) was the Ocean (the Atlantic) 


A GREAT SCHEME 


51 


Sicily. It would be strange if you were now to 
make amends to us for all the mischief that you 
have done.” 

Cleanor, who had read history to some purpose, 
could not help thinking to himself that mankind 
would hardly have been better off than it was if 
Carthage had been mistress of the west. But he 
put away the thought. His lot was cast, and he 
could not, would not change it. The memory of the 
inexpiable wrong that he had suffered swept over 
his mind, and he set himself resolutely to carry out 
his purpose. 

“And what do you suggest?” continued Has- 
drubal. 

“To go myself and see what can be done,” re- 
plied the Greek. 

“Good ! And let no time be lost. I don’t mean 
that you are one to lose time ; that you certainly 
are not ; I mean that we had better not say any- 
thing about this to the authorities inside the walls. 
There will be questions, debates, delays, nothing 
settled, I feel sure, till it is too late. You must go 
unofficially, but I will give you letters of commen- 
dation which you will find useful. Succeed, and 
there is nothing that you may not ask, and get, 
from Carthage and from me. When shall you be 
ready to start ? ” 

“ To-day.” 


52 


LORDS OF THE WORLD 


“ And whither do you propose to go first ? ” 
“First, of course, to Greece; then to Macedonia. 
I hear that there is someone there who calls him- 
self the son of King Philip, and that the Macedo- 
nians are flocking to his standard.” 

“So be it. Farewell; and Hercules be with 
you ! ” 


CHAPTER, VI 


THE MISSION 


LEANOR’S interview with Hasdrubal was fol- 



\J lowed by a long conversation with one of his 
staff, Gisco by name, in which were discussed the 
best and safest means of crossing from Africa to 
Greece. The Greek might have had at his command 
the best and fleetest war-galley in the docks of Car- 
thage, but the idea did not at all commend itself to 
him. The harbour was not actually blockaded — 
Roman seamanship was hardly equal to maintain- 
ing a blockade, which often means the imminent 
peril of lying off a lee-shore— but it was pretty 
closely watched ; the sea in the neighbourhood was 
patrolled by Roman ships, and the chances were at 
least equal that a Carthaginian galley would be 
challenged and brought to bay before it could 


THE MISSION 


53 


reach Europe, and more than likely that if so chal- 
lenged it would be captured. Some kind of dis- 
guise seemed to be far more promising of safety, 
and the more obscure the disguise the better the 
promise. 

A little fleet of vessels was about to sail from one 
of the coast villages for the autumn tunny-fishing, 
and Cleanor resolved to embark on one of them. It 
had been one of his boyish delights to spend a few 
days from time to time at sea, and he had a long- 
standing acquaintance, which might almost have 
been called a friendship, with the veteran master of 
one of these craft. The tunny -fishing had always 
been too long an affair for the lad, who had his 
duties at home to attend to. The boats were about 
a month or more from home if the shoals had to be 
followed far, for the tunny is a fish that lives 
mostly in deep water. But there was a standing 
engagement that some day or other, when he hap- 
pened to have leisure sufficient, the thing was to be 
done. Syphax — this was the old fisherman’s name 
— knew nothing about his visitor except that he 
was a merry, companionable lad who had a suffi- 
cient command of gold pieces. To politics he paid 
no attention whatever. If there was war, it made no 
difference to him except, possibly, to increase the 
market for his tunnies, and raise the price. Romans 
and Carthaginians agreed in liking his wares ; if 


54 


LORDS OF THE WORLD 


they paid honestly for them, it did not matter to 
the fisherman what they did in other matters. 

When, therefore, two or three days after his visit 
to HasdrubaPs camp, the Greek knocked at the 
door of Sypliax’s little house by the sea, he received 
a hearty welcome, and was asked no inconvenient 
questions. 

“You’re just in time, young sir,” cried the old 
man, “if you are come for the tunnies. We start 
at sunset, and, if we have luck, we shall be among 
them by dawn to-morrow. Just now the shoals are 
pretty near, and we may catch a boat-load before 
the new moon — it is just full to-day. But you are 
not in a hurry, I hope, if we should have to go 
further afield.” 

“All right, Syphax ! ” replied Cleanor. “ I shall 
be able to see it through this time.” 

The old man, who had, indeed, the experience of 
sixty years to draw from, was quite right in his pre- 
diction that they would find themselves among the 
tunnies at dawn. They had been able to get over 
a considerable distance during the night. At first 
their progress had been slow, for it was a dead calm, 
and the sweeps had to be used. About midnight, 
when they were well out of the shelter of the land, 
a light breeze from the south sprang up. The broad 
lateen sail was gladly hoisted, and the little craft 
sped gaily along, making, with the wind due aft, 


T1IE MISSION 


55 


some six or seven miles an hour. Cleanor, who had 
fallen asleep shortly after midnight, not a little 
fatigued by the share which he had insisted on 
taking in the rowing, was awakened, after what 
seemed to him five minutes of slumber, by the 
captain. 

“ See,” cried the old man, “ there they are yon- 
der. Thanks to Dagon, we have got among them 
quite as soon as 1 hoped.” 

And sure enough, about three hundred yards off, 
just in a line with the sun, which was beginning to 
lift a crimson disk out of the sea, the water seemed 
positively alive with fish, little and big. The tun- 
nies had got among a shoal of sardines, and were 
busy with the chase. Every now and then some 
score of small fry would throw themselves wildly 
out of the water to escape their pursuer ; behind 
them the water swirled with the rush of some mon- 
ster fish, whose great black fin might be discerned, 
by a keen eye, just showing above the surface. 
Elsewhere, one of the tunnies would leap bodily 
into the air, his silvery side gleaming in the almost 
level rays of the rising sun. The sail had already 
been lowered, and the sweeps, after some dozen 
strokes to give a little way to the vessel in the right 
direction, had been shipped again. In another min- 
ute the little craft had quietly glided into the mid- 
dle of the shoal. 


56 


LORDS OF THE WORLD 


Cleanor, in spite of all the grave preoccupation 
of his mind, was still young enough to enjoy the 
brisk scene which followed. There were two ways 
of securing the fish : the harpoon was one ; the 
hand-line was the other, the hook being baited with 
a small fish or with a bit of brilliant red cloth. 
Syphax and two of his sailors used the former. 
Cleanor and the third sailor, a young man of about 
the same age, as being not sufficiently expert with 
the harpoon, were furnished with hand-lines. 

The fun was fast and furious. At his very first 
shot the captain drove his harpoon into the side of 
a huge tunny. So strong was the creature that it 
positively towed the boat after it for a few minutes. 
This gave to Cleanor’ s baited hook exactly the mo- 
tion that was wanted. It was soon seized with a 
force which jerked the line out of his hand, and 
would infallibly have carried it away altogether, 
had it not been wound round his leg, more, it must 
be confessed, by accident than by design. 

A sharp struggle followed. For some time the 
fisherman seemed to get no nearer to securing his 
fish. It would suffer itself to be drawn up a few 
yards, and would then by a fierce rush recover and 
even increase its distance. But the line was of a 
thickness and strength which allowed any strain to 
be put upon it, and the hook was firmly fastened 
into the leathery substance of the fish’s mouth. The 


THE MISSION 


57 


creature’s only chance of escape was that the tre- 
mendous jerks it gave might flatten the barb of the 
hook. This did not happen, for Sypliax took good 
care that all his tackle should be of the very best 
quality, and, after a conflict of half an hour, Cleanor 
had the satisfaction of seeing his prey turn helpless 
and exhausted on to its side. He drew it up close 
to the vessel, glad enough to give a little rest to his 
Angers, which were actually bleeding with the fric- 
tion of the line. A sailor put his Angers into the 
animal’s gills, and lifted it by a great effort over 
the gunwale. It weighed a little more than a hun- 
dred pounds. 

The sport continued till noon, only interrupted 
b}' a few short intervals when the shoal moved away 
and had to be followed. By noon so many fish had 
been secured that it became necessary to take meas- 
ures for preserving them. They were split open and 
cleaned. The choicest portions were immersed in 
casks which held a liquid used for pickling ; other 
parts were salted lightly or thoroughly, according 
as they were intended for speedy consumption or 
otherwise. 

“ You have brought us good luck,” said Syphax 
to his guest, as they shared the last meal after a 
day’s hard work. “In all my experience— and it 
goes back sixty years at least — I don’t remember 
getting such sport so soon. Another day or two of 


58 


LORDS OF THE WORLD 


this and we shall have a full cargo, and may go 
home again.’ ’ 

He had hardly spoken when his eye was caught 
by a strange appearance in the water — strange, 
that is, to Cleanor, but only too familiar and intel- 
ligible to the old man. 

“ Ah ! ” he cried, “ I thought that it was too good 
to last. Do you see that eddy yonder 3 And look, 
there is the brute’s back-fin.” 

“ What is it ? ” asked Cleanor. 

“A shark, of course,” replied the old man. 
“They never bode any good to anyone. Dagon 
only knows where we shall find the tunnies again. 
They will be leagues away from here by sunrise to- 
morrow, and there is no telling what way they will 
go. However, we have done pretty well, even if we 
don’t see them again this moon. To-night we will 
lie-to ; it will be time enough in the morning to de- 
cide what is to be done.” 

Cleanor had begun to fear that his experiment 
might turn out to be a failure. Nothing, he knew, 
would induce the old man to sail another league 
aw r ay from home when once his cargo had been 
completed. Accordingly he had hailed the shark’s 
appearance with delight as soon as he comprehend- 
ed what it meant, and now he turned to sleep with 
a lighter heart. 

Again did the old fisherman show himself a true 


THE MISSION 


59 


prophet. The next morning, and for many morn- 
ings afterwards, not a tunny was to be seen. The 
weather, however, continued fine, and the little 
craft made its way in a leisurely fashion towards 
the north-east, a sharp look-out being kept by day, 
and, as far as was possible, by night, for the object 
of pursuit. 

Two days had passed in this way when masses 
of floating sea-weed and flocks of gulls began to 
warn the captain that he was drawing near the land. 

u We have been on the wrong tack,” he said to 
Cleanor, “and must put her head about. We are 
more likely to find the fish in deep water than here.” 

“ Where are we, then? ” asked the Greek. 

“Almost within sight of Lilybaeum, as far as I 
can guess.” 

Cleanor felt that it was time to act. “ Will you 
do me a favour ? ” he said. 

“ Certainly,” replied the old man, “ if I possibly 
can.” 

“Well, then, put me ashore.” 

“That is easy enough, if I am not wrong in my 
guess as to our whereabouts. How long do you 
want to stay? I should not like to lose this fine 
weather. As for landing, I should have had to do 
that in any case, for we are getting short of water.” 

“I don’t want you to wait for me. Only land 
me and leave me.” 


60 


LORDS OF THE WORLD 


“ What ! Tired of the business, I suppose. Well, 
we have been a long time doing nothing, but we 
must come across the tunnies soon” 

Cleanor, who was anxious above all things not to 
be thought to have any serious object in view, al- 
lowed that the time did seem a little long. He had 
friends and kinsfolk, too, in Sicily, he said, and it 
would be a pity to lose the opportunity of paying 
them a visit. It was arranged, accordingly, that he 
should be landed, and that the crew should replen- 
ish their water-casks at the same time. He parted 
with his friends on the best of terms. Two gold 
pieces to the captain and one to each of the crew 
sent them away in great glee, singing his praises as 
the most open-handed young sportsman that they 
had ever had to do with. 

It is needless to relate in detail our hero’s journey 
through Sicily. He bought a stout young horse, 
one of the famous breed of Sicilian cobs, at Agri- 
gentum, near which place he had been landed, and 
reached Syracuse without further adventure. At 
Syracuse he found a merchant vessel about to start 
for Corinth, secured a berth in her, and reached 
that city after a rapid and prosperous voyage. 


THE LAST OF THE GREEKS 


61 


CHAPTER VII 

THE LAST OF THE GREEKS 

M OST of Cleanor’s fellow-passengers on board 
the Nereid — for this was the name of the sin- 
gularly un-nymphlike trading vessel that carried 
him to Corinth — were a curious medley of races 
and occupations. Corinth was the mart of the 
western world, and was frequented, for business or 
for pleasure, by all its races. There were soothsay- 
ers from Egypt, who found their customers all the 
more credulous because they boasted that they be- 
lieved in nothing ; Syrian conjurors ; Hebrew slave- 
dealers ; a mixed troop of commercial travellers ; 
and a couple of grave-looking, long-bearded men 
who, in spite of their philosophers’ cloaks, were 
perhaps the greediest, the most venal of all. 

One passenger, however, was of a very different 
class. He was a Syracusan noble, erect and vigor- 
ous, notwithstanding his seventy years, whose dig- 
nified bearing and refined features spoke plainly 
enough of high breeding and culture. He was a 
descendant of Archias, the Corinthian emigrant, 
who, some six centuries before, had founded the 
colony of Syracuse, and he was coming, as he told 
Cleanor, in whom he had discovered a congenial 


62 


LORDS OF THE WORLD 


companion, on a religions mission. The tie that 
bound a Greek colony to the mother city had a cer- 
tain sanctity about it. Sentiment there was, and 
the bond of mutual advantage ; but there was more, 
a feeling of filial reverence and duty, which was ex- 
pressed by appropriate solemnities. 

“ I am bringing,’’ said Archias — he bore the same 
name as his far-away ancestor — “ the yearly offering 
from Syracuse the daughter to Corinth the mother. 
I have done it now more than thirty times. But I 
feel a certain foreboding that I shall not come on 
the same errand again. If that means only that 
my own time is near, it is nothing. I have had my 
share of life. The gods have dealt bountifully with 
me, and if they call me I shall go without grumbling. 
But I can’t help feeling that it is something more 
than the trifle of my own life that is concerned, that 
some evil is impending either over Syracuse or over 
Corinth. As for my own city, I don’ t see where the 
trouble is to come from. W e have long since bowed 
our necks to the yoke, and we bear it without 
wincing. For bearable it is, though it is heavy. 
But for Corinth I own that I have many fears. She 
is restless, she is vain ; she has ambitions to which 
she is not equal. The gods help her and save 
her, or take me away before my eyes see her 
ruin ! ” 

As they were drawing near their journey’s end 


THE LAST OF THE GREEKS 


63 


Arcliias warmly invited his young friend to make 
his home with him during his stay in Corinth. 

“ I have an apartment,” he said, “ reserved for 
me in the home of the guest-friend of Syracuse. 
The city rents it for me, and makes me an allowance 
for the expenses of my journey. I feel bound to 
accept it, though, without at all wishing to boast of 
my wealth, I may say that I don’t need it. You 
must not think that you are burdening a poor man 
— that is all. I can introduce you to everybody 
that is worth knowing in Corinth, and, if you have 
any business on hand, shall doubtless be able to 
help you. And it will be a pleasure, I assure you, 
to have a companion who is not wearied with an old 
man’s complaints of the new times.” 

Cleanor thankfully accepted the invitation. When 
the Nereid reached the port of Corinth he found 
that the Syracusan’s arrival had been expected. A 
chariot was in waiting at the quay to convey them 
to the city. At the apartment all preparations for 
the comfort of the guests were complete — it was a 
standing order that a provision sufficient for two 
should be made. First there was the bath — more 
than usually welcome after the somewhat squalid 
conditions of life on board the merchantman — and 
after the bath a meal, excellently cooked and ele- 
gantly served. 

The meal ended, Cleanor felt moved to become 


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LORDS OF THE WORLD 


more confidential with his new friend than he had 
hitherto been. Naturally he had been very reserved, 
giving no reason for Archias to suppose that he had 
other objects in his travels than amusement or in- 
struction. But he felt that it would be somewhat 
ungracious to maintain this attitude while he was 
enjoying so kind and generous an hospitality. In a 
conversation that was prolonged far into the night 
he opened up his mind with considerable freedom. 
His precise schemes he did not mention ; they were 
scarcely his own secret ; and he said nothing about 
Hasdrubal, feeling — for he had studied history with 
intelligence and sympathy — that a Syracusan noble 
would scarcely look with favour on anything that 
came from Carthage, the oldest and bitterest enemy 
of his country. But he gave a general descrip- 
tion of his hope and aim, a common union of the 
world under the leadership of the Greek race 
against the domination with which Home was 
threatening it. 

The Syracusan listened with profound attention. 
“ It hasjlone me good,” he said, “to hear you. I 
did not know that such enthusiasm was to be found 
nowadays. The very word has gone out of fashion, 
I may say fallen into disrepute. It used to mean 
inspiration, now it means madness. Our young men 
care for nothing but sport, and even their sport has 
to be done for them by others. They have chariots, 


THE LAST OF THE GREEKS 


65 


but they hire men to drive them ; the cestus 1 and 
the wrestling ring are left to professional athletes. 
The only game which they are not too languid to 
practise with their own hands is the kottabos, and 
the kottabos 2 is not exactly that for which our 
fathers valued all these things, a preparation for 
war. I hate to discourage you, but I should be 
sorry to see you ruining your life in some hopeless 
cause.” 

“But, if I may say so much with all respect, isn’t 
this exactly what has been said time after time % 
May there not be something better than you think, 
than anybody would think, in these frivolous young 
fellows ? Who would have thought Alcibiades any- 
thing but a foolish fop, and yet what a soldier he 
was when the time came ! ” 

“Well, I hope that you are right,” replied the old 
man; “only your Alcibiades must make haste to 
show himself, or else it will be too late. But it is 
not only this, the folly and frivolity of the youth, 
that discourages me ; it is the hopeless meanness 
and jealousy of the various states. If I could raise 
from the dead the very best leader a Greek city ever 
had, I should still despair. Now listen to the story 


1 The ancient boxing-glove, a formidable construction, fitted to the hand, 
of leather thongs heavily loaded with lead. 

2 This consisted in throwing wine out of a cup into a bowl placed at some 
distance. The game was played in various ways. 

5 


66 


LORDS OF THE WORLD 


that I have to tell you. Don’t think that I am a 
mere grumbler, who does his best to discourage 
thoughts that are too high for him to understand ; 
I speak from a bitter experience. But you shall 
hear. 

“I am just old enough to remember the storm 
and sack of my native city by the Romans. I was 
but five years old, but even a child of live does not 
forget when he sees, as I saw, his father and his 
elder brother killed before his eyes. I should have 
been killed myself — for the soldiers, who had suf- 
fered terribly in the siege, spared no one — but for 
Marcellus himself . 1 He let the slave who waited on 
me carry me off to his own hut. That worthy slave 
and his good wife kept me for live years out of their 
scanty wages — he was a workman in the stone- 
quarries, and she sold cakes to schoolboys in the 
streets — till I was ten years old. Then interest was 
made with the Senate at Rome, and part of the 
family property was given back to me. You will 
understand that I was very restless at Syracuse, but 
I could not move till I was twenty-live, for my 
father’ s will had fixed this age for my becoming my 
own master. It is a custom in our family, and I 
was too dutiful to think of breaking it. But the 
moment I became my own master I made haste to 
carry out a plan which I had long been thinking of. 

1 Marcellus was the Roman general in command. 


THE LAST OF THE GREEKS 


67 


The famous soldier of the time was Philopcemen, 
the Arcadian. It was a privilege to serve under 
him as a volunteer, and there were always ten times 
more applications than there were places to fill. 
However, by great good luck, and partly, I may 
say, through my having had the good fortune to 
win the foot-race at Olympia, I was chosen. I 
landed here — it is more than forty-five years ago — 
and made my way to his home in Arcadia. He had 
himself just come back from Sparta, which he had 
brought over to the cause of Greece. Sparta, as I 
dare say you know, has always cared much for her- 
self, and very little for anything or anybody else. 
I shall never forget what happened a few days after 
my arrival. The Spartans, or, I should rather say, 
the reforming party among the Spartans — for there 
never was a Greek city yet but had two parties in it 
at the very least — felt greatly obliged to him for 
what he had done, and determined to make him a 
present. Well, they sent three of their chief citi- 
zens to offer it to him. They came, and Philopoemen 
entertained them. Of course he knew nothing about 
the object of their coming, and they said nothing 
about it. They seemed ill at ease — that I could not 
help observing— though their liost was all that was 
courteous and agreeable ; but speak they couldn’t. 
There was something about the man which posi- 
tively forbade their mentioning such a matter. The 


68 


LORDS OF THE WORLD 


next day they went away, leaving their offer un- 
spoken. But as they could hardly go back to 
Sparta with this story, they put the matter into the 
hands of an old friend to carry out. 

“It seems an easy thing to get rid of a pocketful 
of gold, but this man didn’t find it so. Everything 
about Philopoemen was so simple, so frugal, he 
seemed so absolutely above things of the kind, that 
it was impossible to offer him money. The man 
went away without saying anything. He came a 
second time, and it was the same thing all over 
again. I don’t say but what Philopoemen had now 
some inkling of what was on hand. There was a 
twinkle in his eye, as if he was enjoying some joke 
greatly. As for me, I was completely mystified. 
Then the three Spartans came back again, and this 
time they forced themselves to speak, and, of course, 
did it in the clumsiest, most brutal fashion. It was 
a large sum, too, a hundred and twenty talents , 1 
if I remember right. 

“Philopoemen smiled. 4 My friends,’ he said, 

4 you would have laid out this money very badly if 
I were to take it. Don’t buy your friends ; you 
have them already. Buy your enemies.’ 

44 And a good friend he showed himself. He 

1 £27,000 in our money, reckoning by weight at five shillings per ounce for 
silver. This would mean a great deal more in purchasing power, not less 
than £100,000. 


THE LAST OF THE GREEKS 


69 


wasn’t in office then, and the President of the 
League, having a difference with the Spartans in 
some matter of no great importance, was all for us- 
ing force. 

4 4 4 Pray,’ said Philopoemen to him, 4 don’t do any- 
thing of the kind. It is sheer madness to quarrel 
with a great Greek state, when the Romans are on 
the watch to take advantage of our divisions.’ 

44 And when he found that speaking was of no 
use, he mounted his horse and rode straight to 
Sparta — I was with him — to warn them of what was 
going to be done. Sure enough, in the course of 
ten days or so, the President comes with some five 
thousand men of his own and half a Roman le- 
gion ; but Sparta was ready. They had to go back 
again without doing any harm. Some two months 
afterwards he was chosen President — for the eighth 
time it was — very much against his will, for he had 
passed his seventieth year, and was hoping to spend 
the rest of his days in peace. But it was not to be. 
There was a revolution in Messene, one of the end- 
less changes which tempt one to think, against 
one’ s own conscience, that the steady, fixed rule of 
an able, honest tyrant is the best kind of govern- 
ment that a state can have. The Messenians, ac- 
cordingly, renounced the League. This might have 
been endured ; but it was another matter when they 
proceeded to seize a strong place outside their own 


70 


LORDS OF THE WORLD 


borders. Pliilopoemen was lying sick with fever 
at the time in Argos, but he left his bed immediately, 
and was on horseback in less than an hour. I was 
with him ; indeed, I never left him of my own free 
will. Before nightfall we had reached his home in 
Arcadia, four hundred furlongs was the distance, 
and the roads about as rough and steep as you will 
find anywhere in Greece. The next day he sent 
round the city calling for volunteers. Some three 
hundred joined him — gentlemen, all of them, who 
furnished their own arms, and rode their own horses. 
We had a smart brush with the enemy, and got the 
better of them. But they were strongly reinforced, 
and as we were now heavily overmatched, Pliilo- 
poemen gave the signal to fall back. His one 
thought now was to save the volunteers. 

“ ‘ They are the heart’s blood of the city,’ he said 
to me, ‘ and they must not be wasted.’ 

“He placed himself with a few troopers, who 
formed his body-guard, in the rear, and protected 
their retreat. He was a famous swordsman, you 
must know, and old as he was, there were very few 
who cared to come to close quarters with him. But 
of course they had their darts, and he was soon 
wounded in several places, as, indeed, we all were. 
And then on some very rough ground his horse 
stumbled and threw him. He was an old man, you 
see, and he had had two days of hard riding, and 


THE LAST OF THE GREEKS 


71 


the fever fit — which was of the ague kind, caught 
some years before when he was campaigning in 
Crete — was coming upon him. 

“ ‘ Save yourselves,’ he said to us ; ‘your country 
will want you for many years yet, but I am an old 
man.’ 

“ However, he gave me leave to stay ; the others 
he commanded on their obedience to go. When 
the enemy came up he had fainted. They thought 
he was dead, and began to strip him of his arms, 
but before they had finished he came to himself. 
My blood boils to this day when I think how they 
treated him. They bound his hands behind his 
back, and drove him before them on foot as he was, 
half-dead with fatigue and sickness. 

“ That night we bivouacked in the open. Some of 
the troopers had a feeling of pity or shame. One 
lent him his cloak to keep the cold off, though he 
had to go without one himself ; another shared his 
ration of bread, dried meat, and rough wine with 
him. On the evening of the next day w T e came to 
Messene town, and I must do the townsfolk the 
justice to say that the sight was not at all to their 
liking. I heard many of them cursing the man — 
Deinocrates was his name, and he was as ill-con- 
ditioned a scoundrel as there was in Greece — who 
had given the orders for it to be done. Still, no one 
had the courage to interfere, and Deinocrates de- 


72 


LORDS OF THE WORLD 


termined to finish matters before he was hindered ; 
for he knew perfectly well that the League would 
spare nothing to get back their president. 

“ He thrust him, therefore, into a dungeon that 
was called the Treasury, a dreadful hole without a 
window or door, but having the entrance to it 
blocked by a huge stone. Deinocrates then held 
a hurried council with some of his own party. 
They voted with one accord for death. What fol- 
lowed I heard from the executioner himself, who 
was one of Deinocrates’ slaves. His story was this : 

“ ‘My master said to me, “ Take this cup ” — I 
guessed from the look and the smell that it was 
hemlock — “ to the prisoner, and don’t leave him till 
he drinks it.” I went in— it wanted but a little time 
to midnight — and found Philopcemen awake. 
“ Ah ! ” he said, when he saw me, “your master is a 
generous man, and sends me, I doubt not, a draught 
of one of his richest vintages. But before I drink 
it, answer me, if you can, one question. Have any 
prisoners been brought in ? ” I said that I had not 
heard of any. “Hone of the young horsemen that 
were with me ? ” I said that I had not seen them. 
He smiled and said, “You bring good tidings. 
Things have not gone altogether ill with me.” Then 
he took the cup and drank it up without another 
word. This done he lay down again. I watched 
by him, but though I heard him breathing heavily 


THE CORINTHIAN ASSEMBLY 


73 


he never moved. Just before cock-crow I judged 
that he died, for it was then that breathing ceased, 
and when I put my hand on his heart I could feel 
nothing.’ 

“ That was the end of Philopcemen, ‘ the last of 
the Greeks,’ as I heard an enemy, a Roman, call 
him. And what, my dear young friend, can Greece 
do without Greeks ?” 


CHAPTER VIII 


THE CORINTHIAN ASSEMBLY 


LEANOR was of far too sanguine a tempera- 



\J ment to allow himself to be daunted by the 
gloomy reminiscences of his friend. “Things,” he 
said to himself, “are altered since then. Rome is 
more manifestly formidable, for she has rid herself 
of more than one rival. The mere instinct of self- 
preservation must make those that are left unite.” 

Still, he could not hide from himself various dis- 
couraging facts that forced themselves upon his 
notice. In the first place Corinth, or, rather, the 
Corinthian people, disappointed him. The place 
itself was intensely interesting ; he did not know 
whether to admire more the splendid remains of the 


74 


LORDS OF THE WORLD 


past that it had to show, or the evidences of a pros- 
perous present with which it abounded. 

At one time he would make his way to the high- 
est point of the citadel, the Acro-Corintlius, and 
look down upon the city, crowded as it was with 
temples, public halls, mansions, on which the 
wealth of centuries had been lavished. At another 
he would spend long hours in wandering about the 
docks, that one which brought to the ‘ ‘ City of the 
Two Seas” the commerce of the West, or that 
other which was filled with the merchandise of the 
East. 

There were vessels of all sizes and of every kind 
of rig, manned with seamen of every nationality, 
and bringing the merchandise of every country, 
from the Atlantic shores on the west to remote re- 
gions of the east of which no European knew ex- 
cept by repute. Blocks of tin and strings of amber 
from far-off islands of the north, ivory and precious 
stones from the African coasts far to the south of 
the Pillars of Hercules, iron from Elba, cattle and 
fruit from the Balearic Isles, wines from Sicily and 
the shores of the Adriatic, were among the most 
common articles in the western harbour ; to the 
eastern harbour came silks from China, metal work 
from India — then as now famous for the skill of its 
handicraftsmen — dried fruits from Lesser Asia, salt 
and pickled fish from the Black Sea, wheat from 


THE CORINTHIAN ASSEMBLY 


75 


Egypt, and wines, some of them the finest vintages 
in the world, from the islands of the iEgean. Co- 
rinth, then, was interesting enough, making the im- 
pression upon a stranger of being one of the busiest 
and wealthiest places in the world. 

But what of the Corinthians ? A more mixed, I 
may say mongrel, multitude could not be seen any- 
where. Cleanor’s first impression was that the pop- 
ulation contained specimens of every nation upon 
earth — except Greeks. There were swarms of 
Asiatics from the Lesser Asia and from Syria, yel- 
low-skinned Egyptians, Arabs and Moors showing 
every variety of brown, and negroes with their 
glossy black. In effective contrast to these might 
be seen a few Gauls, blue-eyed and yellow-haired, 
whose imposing stature seemed to dwarf to pygmies 
the crowds through which they shouldered their 
way. Now and then a Roman, conspicuous in his 
white toga edged with a narrow purple stripe , 1 
moved along with slow, dignified step, which seemed 
to speak of a man born to rule. It was curious to 
note the expression of fear and hatred with which 
he was regarded. Again and again, as he watched 
this motley crowd thronging the streets with an end- 


1 This narrow stripe indicated the knight ; the broad stripe indicated the 
senator. The knights were the capitalists of Rome, farming the revenues of 
the state, a business becoming yearly more important aB the dominions of 
the republic continued to grow. 


76 


LORDS OF THE WORLD 


less variety of costume, colour, and dress, Cleanor 
felt disposed to say, “Here is Corinth, but where 
are the Corinthians ? ” And when he did see speci- 
mens of the genuine Corinthian, he had to own to 
himself that they did not greatly impress him. 
The city had its gilded youth, most of them belong- 
ing to the second or third generations of families 
enriched by trade, but some claiming to be Bacclii- 
adae, 1 or even descendants of the mythical Sisyphus 
who had founded the city some fourteen centuries 
before. A more debauched, spendthrift, and gen- 
erally useless set he had never seen. They made 
no pretence to culture ; they shuddered at the idea 
of a campaign ; even the sports of the arena were 
too much for their effeminate frames. Cleanor felt 
his spirits sink and his hopes diminish day by day, 
for Corinth was now the capital of Greece. Archias, 
his host, watched him meanwhile with a compas- 
sionate interest. He had had something of the same 
enthusiasm himself in bygone da 3 7 s, and had known 
the inexpressible pain of having to own that it was 
a delusion. 

“Ho you know,” he said to his young guest 
some ten days after their arrival, “ that there is to 
be an important meeting of the Assembly to-mor- 
row 1 ” 

“I heard Polemon say something about it to-day. 

1 This was the ancient aristocracy of Corinth. 


THE CORINTHIAN ASSEMBLY 77 

He asked one of the young fellows who were play- 
ing at Jcottabos with him whether he thought of 
going, and seemed to surprise him very much by 
the question. Polemon, you see, has not been living 
in Corinth for much more than a year, and has not 
quite caught the high-toned Corinthian manner. 
He actually imagines it possible for a man to have 
some interest in public affairs. You should have 
heard the astonishment in his friend’s voice when 
he answered him, ‘ Going to the Assembly, did you 
say \ Why, my dear fellow, I have never been to 
the Assembly, and certainly never shall, till they 
make me Eparch or whatever they call it, when I 
shall have to, I suppose. And to-morrow of all 
days in the year! Why, don’t you know that Pin- 
tocles of Megara is coming over with his champion 
team of quails, and that I am going to meet them 
with mine ? We have a wager of a hundred gold 
pieces on the event. If one side kills all the birds 
on the other side, the loser is to pay double stakes. 
In any case the winner is to give a dinner to the 
loser and his friends. Going to the Assembly, in- 
deed ! ’ That is all that I have heard about it.” 

“ Then I had better enlighten you,” replied Ar- 
chias. “You know that the Assembly has been 
called to hear the envoys from Rome state the 
terms which the Senate is willing to agree to. You 
ought to be there. You will find it very interesting, 


78 


LORDS OF TIIE WORLD 


whatever these young gentlemen with their teams 
of fighting quails may think about it.’ ’ 

“ Certainly I should like to go ; but how am I to 
get in % At Athens they were very particular not to 
admit anyone that was not a citizen.” 

“Don’t trouble yourself on that score. Here 
they are not particular at all. Simply follow the 
crowd. There will be no one to stop you.” 

And so it turned out. There were door-keepers 
at the entrances to the vast amphitheatre in which 
the meeting of the Assembly was held, but they did 
not attempt to exclude anyone. Cleanor found 
himself, when he was seated, in the midst of a crowd 
almost as variegated and as polyglot as that at which 
he was accustomed to gaze in the streets. No one 
could suppose that any large proportion of them 
were genuine Corinthian citizens. The fourth hour 1 
was the time appointed for the commencement of 
business, and the multitude spent the interval much 
in the same way that a waiting crowd would do now- 
adays. They cheered or hissed any well-known 
citizen as he took his place, yelled out witticisms 
which seemed to please the more the coarser and 


1 The fourth hour, reckoned, i.e . , from sunrise. As the time is supposed to 
be late in the autumn, sunrise would be at 7, and the fourth hour about 10.20, 
each hour being of fifty minutes duration, i.e ., the twelfth part of the hours’ 
day between 7 a.m. and 5 p.m. Whatever the length of the day it was di- 
vided into twelve hours. 


THE CORINTHIAN ASSEMBLY 


79 


more personal they were, sang songs with noisy cho- 
ruses, and kept up generally an incessant uproar. 
Men carrying baskets of cakes and sweetmeats, or 
jars of wine, passed up and down the spaces be- 
tween the blocks of seats, and did a brisk business 
in their respective wares. 

A brief hush fell upon the noisy crowd when, 
after the signal had been given by the blast of a 
trumpet, the doors leading into what may be called 
the magistrates’ box were thrown open, and the 
officials who were to conduct the business of the 
day filed in. There was nothing noteworthy about 
their reception, but when the figures of the two 
Roman envoys became visible, a storm of groans 
and hisses broke out ten times louder and fiercer 
than the noisiest manifestation that had greeted the 
most unpopular Corinthian. The two Romans bore 
themselves with characteristic indifference, took 
their seats in the places allotted to them, and 
watched the furious multitude with the utmost un- 
concern. 

After the howling and stamping had gone on for 
some quarter of an hour, the demonstration began 
to die away. One of the magistrates dropped a few 
grains of incense into a fire that was burning in 
front of him, and poured out a little wine, mutter- 
ing at the same time an invocation to Zeus, the 
patron deity of Corinth. This was equivalent to 


80 


LORDS OF THE WORLD 


our “ opening the proceedings with prayer.” This 
ceremony completed, a herald proclaimed that the 
Assembly was constituted, and the presiding magis- 
trate stepped forward to open the proceedings. 

His speech was of the briefest. ‘ ‘ Citizens of 
Corinth,” he said, “you are called, together to-day 
to hear the terms on which the Senate and People 
of Rome are willing to make a treaty of perpetual 
friendship with you. They have sent two distin- 
guished citizens, both members of the Senate, who 
will set the matter before you, and whom you will 
receive with that courtesy which it is the custom of 
Corinth to show to the ambassadors of other na- 
tions.” 

The Romans stepped to the front of the platform. 
They were met for a few moments with a renewal 
of the uproar which had greeted their first appear- 
ance. But the Assembly was genuinely anxious to 
hear what they had to say, and the disturbing ele- 
ment was hushed into silence. 

Rome had paid the Greek people the compliment 
of sending them envoys who could address them in 
their own language. Titus Manlius — this was the 
name of the senior envoy — was one of the most cult- 
ured men of the time, one of the Scipio circle, and 
feeling a genuine admiration for Greece, for the 
Greece, i.e ., of the past, for he had no little con- 
tempt for the Greece of the present. On the present 


THE CORINTHIAN ASSEMBLY 


81 


occasion, however, he had every wish to please and 
conciliate. 

When it was seen that he was going to address 
the Assembly without the aid of an interpreter, he 
was greeted with applause, which was renewed after 
he had uttered a few sentences with a fluency and 
purity of accent which much impressed his hearers, 
few of whom, indeed, could in these respects have 
rivalled him. When he went on, in a few well- 
turned phrases, to compliment his hearers on the 
dignity and antiquity of their city, and on the ser- 
vices which they had rendered to Greece in repel- 
ling the barbarians from without, and checking un- 
due ambition from within, he was met with loud 
applause. 

But after compliments came business, after sweets 
bitter. The first statement was that the Senate and 
People of Borne desired that every Greek city 
should enjoy complete freedom, electing its own 
magistrates, and being governed by its own laws. 

This was received with some applause, though 
the Assembly was acute enough to be aware that a 
generality of this kind might not mean very much. 

The speaker went on: “Every city may form 
such alliances as may seem expedient, provided only 
that they be not to the injury of the public peace. 
No city shall be compelled to enter into or to give 
up any alliance against its will.” 

6 


82 


LORDS OF THE WORLD 


At this there were loud expressions of disap- 
proval. It was a cardinal point with the League, 
of which Corinth was the ruling member, that every 
city in Greece must join it. At this very time 
Sparta was insisting on her right to stand alone, and 
the other states, headed by Corinth, were insisting 
that she must join them. And now Rome had pro- 
nounced in favour of Sparta. 

The third item in the programme pleased the au- 
dience still less, for it touched their pride at a very 
tender point. “ A Roman garrison will occupy the 
citadel until affairs shall have been finally arranged. 
The occupation is for a time only, and will cease 
as soon as this may be done without injury to the 
public good.” 

But when the last condition was announced it 
was met with a perfect storm of rage. “Anxious 
to promote the general welfare of Greece, the Senate 
and People of Rome decree that the island of Delos 
shall be a free port.” 

This was a thing that everybody could under- 
stand. Freedom, after all, was not much more than 
a sentiment, and alliances were a matter for rulers 
to settle. Even a garrison in the citadel might be 
endured, for it meant the spending of a good deal 
of money. But Delos a free port ! That was be- 
yond all bearing. There was not a man in the 


THE CORINTHIAN ASSEMBLY 


83 


whole of the Assembly but would be distinctly 
the poorer for it. 

The Roman had scarcely sat down when Crito- 
laus, the president of the League, sprang to his feet, 
and poured out a furious oration, in which he de- 
nounced the hypocrisy, the arrogance, and the 
greed of Rome. As he spoke, the temper of his 
audience rose higher and higher. The whole mul- 
titude sprang to their feet, howling, and shaking 
their fists at the Romans as they sat calm and in- 
different in their place. Still the crisis, dangerous 
as it looked, might have passed off but for the mis- 
chievous act of some half-witted fellow who had 
found his way into the Assembly. 

“ As for these men who have come hither to in- 
sult us,” cried the orator in the peroration of his 
speech, “let them carry back to their employers at 
home the message of our unanimous contempt and 
defiance.” “ And this too,” shouted the man, “as 
a little token of our affection,” throwing at the 
same time a rotten fig. It struck one of the envoys 
on the shoulder, making a disfiguring stain on the 
white toga. “Good! good!” shouted the crowd, 
and followed it up with a shower of similar missiles. 
Some stones followed, and then came a leaden bul- 
let propelled from a sling, which struck the wall 
behind the chairs of the Romans, and only a few 
inches above their heads. 


84 


LOEDS OF THE WORLD 


The magistrates awoke to the gravity of the situ- 
ation. They were responsible for good order, were 
unwilling, in any case, to be themselves compro- 
mised, and had an uneasy feeling that the excite- 
ment of such proceedings would have to be dearly 
paid for. They caught the two Romans by the 
arms, and literally forced them out of the building 
by the door which served as a private entrance for 
official persons. The usual escort was in waiting 
outside. Under this protection the envoys were 
able to reach the citadel in safety. They had re- 
ceived a few blows, but had not sustained any seri- 
ous injury. 

“ What think you of this ? ” asked the Syracusan 
of his young friend as they walked back to their 
lodging. 

“A grievous business indeed, and of the very 
worst augury for the future,” replied Cleanor. 

“Yes,” said Archias. “Who can help thinking 
of Tarentum, and how the robe of Postumius 1 was 
soiled and washed white again.” 

1 C. Postumius was sent in the year 286 b.c. to deliver to the people of 
Tarentum the ultimatum, of Rome. While he was speaking a buffoon be- 
spattered his toga with some filth. He held up the robe in the sight of the 
Assembly, with the words, “ Verily this shall be washed white.” 



THE ROMAN ENVOYS TO CORINTH ARE COMPELLED TO 
LEAVE THE AMPHITHEATRE 













































































































































f 














AT THERMOPYLAE 


85 


CHAPTER IX 

AT THERMOPYLAE 

S O far Cleanor’s experiences had been distinctly 
disappointing. But he still clung to his hopes, 
trying to comfort himself with the thought that 
Greece meant much more than the little tract of 
country which bore the name. It was to be found 
in Egypt, in Syria, in the finest regions of Lesser 
Asia ; and the country from which the most power- 
ful Greek influence had come forth was not Athens 
or Sparta, or any one of the ancient states, but half- 
barbarous Macedonia. The next thing was to see 
what promise Macedonia held forth. 

The season was now growing late for travel by 
sea, and Cleanor gladly joined a party which was 
about to make its way overland to Pella, the old 
capital of Macedonia. The route lay through a 
number of famous places. His study of history 
had long since made him familiar with their names 
and associations. They were now seen for the first 
time with the most vivid interest, an interest which 
reached its climax in the famous Pass of Thermop- 
y lse. The place, which has now been altered by 
the action of nature and time almost beyond recog- 
nition, was then but little changed. The wall be- 


86 LORDS OF THE WORLD 

hind which the Greek army took up its position, 
though almost in ruins, was still to be seen ; the 
mound upon which the immortal Three Hundred 
made their last stand could easily be recognized. 
So could the tomb of the heroes, with the epi- 
taph, so appropriate in its simplicity and modesty , 1 
which Simonides the poet had written for it. Close 
by was the separate sepulchre of the valiant king 
Leonidas, with an epitaph of its own not less 
happy . 2 Cleanor saw with regret that there was 
not enough of local patriotism to keep these me- 
morials of a splendid past in decent repair. The 
letters of the inscriptions were so grown over with 
moss that it was very difficult to decipher them. 
Some of the stones of the tomb of the Three Hun- 
dred were out of place ; and it would not be long, 
unless some repairs were done to it, before the 
whole must fall into ruin. The lion, too, had a 
weather-beaten, almost dilapidated look. Some 
mischievous hand, possibly that of a collector of 
relics— a class which was as unscrupulous in its 
greed for specimens then as now — had chipped off 

1 It ran thus : 

“ Go tell to Sparta, thou that passest by, 

That here obedient to her laws we lie.” 

2 “ Bravest of beasts am I, who watch the grave 
Of him that, living, was of men most brave. 

Lion he was alike in name and heart, 

Else had I ne’er endured the watcher’s part.” 


AT THERMOPYLAE 


87 


a portion from one of the ears. The pedestal was 
covered with rudely carved initials, for this foolish 
practice was as great a favourite with idle hands in 
the ancient world as it is now. 

The young man was meditating sadly on the want 
of public spirit that suffered so scandalous a neglect 
of national glories, when he received another rude 
shock to his feelings. Something had been said in 
the course of the morning’s march — it was about 
noon when they halted in the Pass — about the tribes- 
men near Thermopylae not having the best of char- 
acters, but it had been in a half -jesting way, and 
Cleanor had paid little attention to the remark. 
Nor had he noticed that the party, which, indeed, 
had soon exhausted its slender interest in the place, 
had gone some distance further to make their halt 
for the noonday meal in the open country beyond 
the Gates . 1 He was roused from a fit of musing by 
feeling a hand laid roughly on his shoulder. In a 
moment the chance words of the morning came back 
to him. He swung himself violently aside, and so 
released himself from the grasp of the intruder. 
Instantly facing about he dealt the man a heavy 
blow straight from the shoulder, which tumbled 
him to the ground. But he was unarmed, except for 
a short dagger which he carried in his belt, and 

1 Thermopylae— the Hot Gates ; so called from the hot springs found in the 
neighbourhood. 


88 


LORDS OF THE WORLD 


which was meant to serve for a feast rather than for 
a fray. And he was overmatched. For the moment, 
indeed, he was free ; his assailant had been alone. 
But looking up and down the Pass he saw small 
parties of armed men advancing in both directions. 
Flight, too, was impossible, for the rocks rose sheer 
on either side of him. There was nothing to be done 
but to submit to his fate, which manifestly was to 
be captured by bandits. Throwing his dagger to 
the ground, he held up his hands in token of sur- 
render. 

A man somewhat better clad and better armed 
than his companions — they were a ragged, ill- 
equipped set— advanced from one of the approach- 
ing parties and accosted our hero. Nothing could 
be more polite than his manner of address. 

“ You will excuse us, sir,” he said, “for detain- 
ing you for a short time. Nothing but the exigen- 
cies of business could have induced us to put you 
to any inconvenience.” 

The fellow whom Cleanor had knocked down had 
regained his feet, and was coming up with a threat- 
ening air. 

“ Be quiet, Laches,” said the leader. “ My friend 
did nothing but what was quite right and natural. 
You took a great liberty. To put your hand upon 
a gentleman’s shoulder, indeed ! And your blow, 
sir, was well delivered,” he went on, turning to Clea- 


AT THERMOPYLAE 


89 


nor. “ It was not the first time, I fancy, that you 
have used your fists. A very pretty stroke, indeed ! 
I am quite delighted to offer such poor hospitality 
as I have at command to so accomplished a guest. 
I have your promise, I suppose, not to attempt to 
leave us till we have improved our acquaintance 
somewhat. I have been obliged now and then to 
handcuff a friend who was so modest as to wish to 
withdraw. But you, sir, I know, will accept my 
friendship as frankly as it is offered.” 

Cleanor was not sure whether this elaborate civ- 
ility was an improvement on the more brutal man- 
ners of the average bandit, but thought it best to 
accept the situation with as much show of good- 
humour as he could manage. “I shall be delight- 
ed,” he said, “ to improve my acquaintance with this 
most interesting country of yours. But I have im- 
portant business on hand at Pella, and to business 
even the most attractive pleasures must be post- 
poned.” 

“ I shall be delighted to fall in with your views,” 
replied the brigand chief with an elaborate bow, 
‘‘though I cannot but regret that anything should 
shorten your visit.” 

After proceeding down the Pass for some two 
hundred yards, the party turned into a path on the 
right-hand side, and began to climb a somewhat 
steep ascent. 


90 LORDS OF THE WORLD 

/. “ This is the very path, sir,” said the chief, “ by 
which Ephialtes brought the Persians to take King 
Leonidas and his army in the rear. That villainous 
traitor was, I regret to say, a native of Malia, the 
only dishonest man that the place has ever pro- 
duced. I myself have the honour of having been 
born there.” 

An hour’ s smart walking brought the party to a 
small grassy plateau. Here they left the path, and 
making their way through a clump of ilex, reached 
the entrance to a cavern in the mountain side. The 
entrance was narrow, and so low that a man of even 
moderate stature had to stoop before he could pass 
under it ; but the cavern was spacious and lofty. 

“ My men’s quarters,” said the chief, with a wave 
of the hand; “rather dark, as you see, but dry, 
and fairly warm. My own apartment is a little 
further this way.” 

Another doorway, not unlike that by which they 
had entered, led from the larger into a smaller 
cavern. This, as Cleanor observed, could be shut 
off by a thick door solidly backed with iron. 

“ I like to be by myself now and then,” explained 
the chief. “Our friends, too, are sometimes a little 
boisterous in their mirth, and the noise interferes 
with my studies.” 

The arrangement, it occurred to Cleanor, served 
for protection as well as retirement. The smaller 


AT THERMOPYLAE 


91 


cave had also, he concluded from a ray of light 
which made its way through the wall, a separate 
exit. 

It had been furnished with some attempt at com- 
fort. There was a couch in one of the corners ; in 
the middle, round a hearth on which a few sticks 
were smouldering, coverlets and skins were piled. 
A couple of hunting-spears, a bow, and a quiver 
hung on the walls, and a curtain could be drawn 
over the door that led into the outer cave. 

“ Welcome to my home!” said the chief; “a 
poor place ; but better men have been worse lodged. 
If you have any money, you had better let me take 
care of it. My men are not bad fellows on the 
whole, but you must not trust them too far. They 
are common Phocians, you must know, not men of 
Malia.” 

Cleanor had again to make a virtue of necessity. 
He had taken the precaution of sending a remit- 
tance on to Pella, to await his arrival at that place, 
and carried about with him little more than what 
would be wanted on the journey. This — some 
twenty gold pieces— he had in a purse-girdle round 
his waist , 1 which he now produced and handed to 
the chief. The man examined it, not without first 

1 The same Greek word stands for “ purse ” and “ girdle.” The old-fash- 
ioned long silk purse is an interesting survival of this ancient custom. 
Those who lead lives of adventure still carry their money in a belt fastened 
round the waist. 


92 


LORDS OF THE WORLD 


making an apology, and counted the coins. Cleanor 
fancied that his face fell somewhat at finding that 
they were so few. His manner, however, continued 
to be as gay and friendly as before, and the talk, 
which he poured forth in an unceasing stream, as 
intelligent as it was amusing. 

“ The sun must be nearly setting,” he said, look- 
ing upwards at the aperture in the roof — long 
practice had enabled him to guess the time of day 
very accurately by the variation in the light — “and 
you must be ready by this time for dinner. Tis 
but a humble repast I can offer you, but you can 
understand that we have to rough it up here. My 
neighbours, however, are very kind, and we always 
have enough, though the quality now and then 
leaves something to be desired.” 

Opening the door that communicated between 
the two caves, he called to Laches — the same, it 
will be remembered, with whom Cleanor had had a 
collision earlier in the day. 

“Tell Persis,” he said, “to let us have something 
to eat as soon as possible. You will join us, 
Laches,” he added, “ when it is ready, if by chance 
you have any appetite left. 

“I thought it as well,” he explained, “to do 
away with any little soreness there may be in the 
man’s mind. He will be ready to swear eternal 
friendship over a flask of wine.” 


AT THERMOPYLAE 


93 


Before long a wrinkled old woman, who looked 
quite the ideal cook of a robber’s cave, brought in 
a smoking dish of roast kid, garnished with onions. 
Flat cakes of what we should call “ damper ” served 
as bread, for the latter, as the chief explained, 
could seldom be made for want of yeast. A jug of 
red wine of the country was drawn from a cask 
which stood in a corner of the cave, to be succeeded 
at the proper time by a flask of stately dimensions, 
which contained a rich vintage from Lesbos. 

“This,” said the chief, “my good friend Clari- 
laus, eparch of Larissa, was kind enough to supply 
me with.” 

Cleanor opened his eyes. Farmers and shep- 
herds might find it worth while to buy the brig- 
and’s forbearance by a toll from their flocks, but 
was such a dignitary as an eparch content to pay 
blackmail ? The chief smiled. 

“Perhaps I might explain,” he said, “that we 
came across the eparch’ s wagon as it was on its 
way to Larissa from the coast. As there was 
clearly more wine than he could use— it is the one 
fault of Lesbian wine that it does not keep very 
well— I took it for granted that some must have 
been meant for me. He is famous for his taste in 
wine, and I think you will own that this does him 
credit.” 

It was soon evident that the Lesbian wine had 


94 


LORDS OF THE WORLD 


strength as well as flavour, for the two brigands be- 
came very communicative as the flask grew lighter. 

“ Tell us your story, Laches,’’ said the chief. “ It 
always puts me in better conceit with myself to 
hear it. This life of ours here is not exactly the 
ideal. My old master at the Academy, Philippus, 
would scarcely have approved of it. Yes, my 
young friend, I too have been in Arcadia, or rather, 
I should say in Athens, though I may not look like 
it ; but I always console myself by thinking that 
there are worse thieves than I am. Go on, Laches.” 

The man’s tale ran thus : 

“I was a shepherd by occupation. My father 
was a shepherd ; so had his father before him been, 
and his father too, for many generations. Yes, for 
many hundred years, but not always. There was a 
tradition in the family that we had been princes 
once, owning all the land over which the flocks 
we cared for grazed, and a great deal more. We 
believed that we were descended from the great 
Thessalus 1 himself. Well, we were fairly content. 
Our master was a gay young fellow, a little thought- 
less and too ready with his hands if things did not 
go quite as he wished, but kind and generous. 
Poor fellow ! he was killed by a wild-boar. To 
tell the truth, he had taken a cup too much. It 

1 The legendary hero, eon of Haemon, from whom Thessalia was supposed 
to have received its name. 


AT THERMOPYLiE 


95 


was his habit, and a bad habit too — a very bad 
habit.” 

Laches was quite sincere, though his own utter- 
ance had grown a little thick. 

“We had found a boar in the morning, and lost 
him. After the mid-day meal — he would finish the 
flask of heady Chian — we found the brute again. 
My master threw one of his two hunting spears, and 
wounded him in the shoulder. He was a little 
flurried, and he threw it too soon, and with a bad 
aim. The boar charged, and my master knelt on 
one knee to receive it. Flurried again, and the 
spear not quite straight. I was running as hard as 
I could, but it was too late. When I came up, he 
was lying on the ground, with as bad a wound in 
the thigh as ever I saw. He was dead before you 
could count twenty. 

“ Then our troubles began. The master was not 
married, and all the property went to an uncle, the 
meanest old skinflint in Thessaly. He had been a 
spendthrift, they said, in his young days ; such men 
always make the worst kind of misers, I have heard. 
Anyhow, he was as bad as he could be. He hadn’t 
been in possession for a week when he began to cut 
us short in everything. We used to be allowed 
half a drachma 1 for every lamb that we reared. 
This was taken away. Not only that, but we had 

1 About fourpence farthing. 


96 


LORDS- OF THE WORLD 


to make good all that died. ‘Your fault,’ lie would 
say; ‘your fault; a quite healthy lamb.’ All the 
lambs, according to him, were quite healthy. It 
was the same if one was killed by a wolf, and there 
are a terrible lot of wolves in that part of the 
country. What used to be our best time, the 
lambing season, came to be the worst. There was 
very little of our wages left by the time that we 
had made good all the losses. Then he charged us 
for every stick of wood that we picked up. We 
were not allowed to catch a fish or snare a bird. 
We had to buy our flour at his mill ; damp, chalky 
stuff it was, more like bird-lime than flour. Sour 
wine, rotten cloth, stinking salt-fish — we had to buy 
them all of him. At every turn the villain made a 
profit out of us. As for our wages, it was the rarest 
thing for us to see an obol 1 of them. Most months 
he made out the balance to be on the wrong side. 

“ Well, to cut the story short, we got pretty deeply 
into his debt, my poor father and I. What does 
the scoundrel do but take my sister — as good and 
as pretty a girl as there was in the whole country 
— to be sold as a slave, in payment of the debt, he 
said. He took care to do this villainy when we 
— I mean the girl’s husband that was to be and I 
— were with the sheep on the summer pastures in 
the hills. A nice home-coming we had ; my old 

1 About five farthings; six obols went to the drachma. 


AT THERMOPYLAE 


97 


father dead — he had a stroke the day when his 
daughter was carried away, dying in an hour — and 
my sister gone. She wrenched herself out of the 
hands of the slave- dealer as they were crossing the 
Peneus, threw herself into the river, and was 
drowned — the best thing that could happen to her, 
poor girl ! 

“ You can guess the end, I dare say. The villain, 
my master, was found dead in his bed — his throat 
cut from ear to ear — three days afterwards. They 
caught Agathon — that was the lover, you under- 
stand — and crucified him. And I am here.” 

“ But,” cried Cleanor, “are there no laws ?” 

“ Laws ! ” answered the chief ; “ laws in plenty. 
But the question is — who administers them ? ” 

“The Komans, I suppose, ” replied Cleanor. 

“I only wish they did,” was the unexpected 
answer. “We might get some sort of justice then. 
No ; they leave the matter in the hands of the rich, 
and there is only one in a hundred who has a spark 
of conscience or pity in him. Mark this, young sir. 
I have twelve men in my band, and there is not 
one of them but has a story to tell as bad as what 
Laches here has told us. And in every one of them 
the oppressor has been one of our own people. And 
now, doubtless, you will be ready for sleep.” 

Sleep was long in coming that night to the young 
man, and his thoughts werefull of gloom. He could 
7 


98 


LORDS OF THE WORLD 


not but feel some fears for himself. His captors, it 
is true, were civil and even friendly ; but he knew 
that such people conducted their affairs on strict 
business principles, and that one invariable principle 
was to get rid of a prisoner whose ransom was not 
forthcoming in good time. He had funds, indeed, 
in the hands of a merchant at Pella, but how was 
he to identify himself ? And his experiences hitherto 
had been very dispiriting. Whatever he might find 
elsewhere, so far he had not met with the vigorous, 
united, patriotic Greece of which he had dreamed. 

It was late before he fell asleep, and then his 
slumber was light and troubled. Just as the day 
was showing he was roused by the chief. 

“ Get up,” said the man, “ there is no time to be 
lost, if you don’t want to be choked like a rat in a 
hole.” 

Cleanor started to his feet. Thin coils of smoke 
were finding their way through the crevices of the 
doorway between the two caves and through various 
fissures in the wall. Dazed by the suddenness of 
his rousing, he looked to the chief for an explana- 
tion. 

“ Don’t you understand ? They have tracked us, 
and now they are smoking us out. I am not going 
to leave my men. They’re a rough lot, but they 
have stuck faithfully to me, and I will stick to 
them. But that is nothing to you. You have got 


AT THERMOPYLAE 


99 


time to escape ; don’t waste it. You will find some 
steps cut in the far side of the cave. Follow them ; 
they will take you to a hole near the roof just big 
enough for you to creep through. That is the en- 
trance to a narrow passage which leads to the top 
of the hill. No one knows it but myself ; it was 
well to have my own way of getting out. But I am 
not going to use it now. Take care how you go ; 
the passage is pitch dark, and has some dangerous 
places in it. And here is your purse. I am sorry 
to have hindered you in your journey. We took 
you for something quite different from what you 
are. Still you have learnt something. If you can, 
think kindly of us. Even a set of rascally robbers 
may have something to say for themselves.” 

There was no time to be lost in talking. Cleanor 
scrambled with little difficulty to the entrance of 
the passage. But the passage itself was an awful 
experience. As the chief had said, it was pitch 
dark, and the Greek had to feel his way as he crept 
along on hands and knees. Twice he found the 
path come to what seemed an abrupt end in what 
he supposed to be a chasm, for he heard far below 
him the sound of falling water. But exploring the 
wall on the left hand he found a ledge just broad 
enough to allow him to creep along. At last, after 
what seemed hours of anxious toil— he found after- 
wards that the time was much less than it seemed 


L.rfC. 


100 


LOKDS OF THE WOKLD 


— he saw a faint speck of light in the distance. Be- 
fore long he reached the open air on the hillside, 
at the height of some four hundred feet above the 
plain. 

It was not long before Cleanor fell in with a peas^ 
ant. The man was aware of what had happened. 
He had seen the Thessalian troops on their march, 
and seeing the smoke rising from the hillside had 
guessed the tactics which they had employed. It 
was plain from the man’s talk that the robbers were 
not unpopular in the district. As a rule they had 
paid, and paid liberally for supplies. In short, they 
had been regarded, as sucli people often have been 
before and since, as friends of the poor. The man 
took Cleanor by a short cut into the high road, and 
so enabled him to overtake his party, which reached 
Pella without further adventure. The banditti, as 
he heard during his stay in Macedonia, had fallen to 
a man in a desperate sally which they had made 
against the attacking party. 


A PINCHBECK ALEXANDER 


101 


CHAPTER X 

A PINCHBECK ALEXANDER 

O N arriving at the Macedonian capital, Cleaner 
made it his first business to call on the mer- 
chant to whom his remittance had been made. He 
had expected from the name, Hosius, to find in him 
a countryman of his own, and was not a little sur- 
prised to discover that he was a Jew. The old man, 
who bore his fourscore years very lightly, and was 
as shrewd and keen in business as he had ever been 
in his prime, was very cordial and hospitable. His 
house presented a very mean exterior to the ob- 
server — the Jews had already begun to adopt this 
almost universal method of concealing their wealth 
— but it was really a large and splendid mansion. 
Of this, however, Cleanor caught during his stay 
only rare and casual glimpses. His own quarters 
were in an annex intended for the use of guests not 
of the Hebrew race. This was entirely distinct from 
the main building, and the service was performed 
by a separate establishment of slaves. 

Hosius — this was the form into which the mer- 
chant’s real name, Hoshea , had been changed — had 
much that was interesting to say to his guest. He 
was very frank about his own ways of thinking. 


102 


LORDS OF THE WORLD 


“ I am not very strict,” he said ; “ I am content 
to be as one of those among whom I live. I call 
myself Hosius. It is a name that is easier for their 
mouths to pronounce than my own. And Greek 
fashions and ways suit me well enough. But the 
younger generation is not content. My son David 
is all for strictness, and I am obliged to humour 
him for peace’ sake at home. You see he was one 
of the 4 Righteous,’ 1 as they called themselves. He 
served under Judas the Hammer for three years and 
more ; was with him when lie fell at Elaim, and was 
left for dead on the field. It was he who made me 
build the guest-chamber where you are now. Be- 
fore that I used to entertain my visitors in my own 
house. But he does not allow it ; he would sooner 
starve than eat a meal with a Gentile, as he calls all 
who are not of the People. I don’ t hold with all 
this myself. But he is a good young man, a great 
deal better than his worldly old father, and I don’ t 
like crossing him.” 

It so happened that David was absent from home 
at the time, having gone to Jerusalem to be present 
at the Feast of Dedication, and to look after some 
family affairs for his father ; his zeal did not in the 
least hinder him from being an excellent man of 
business. Old Hosius took advantage of his ab- 

1 The Chasidim, who were the backbone of the patriot party of the Macca- 
bees, the Pharisees of the time. 


A PINCHBECK ALEXANDER 


103 


sence to see more of his guest than it would have 
been possible otherwise. The young man’s frank- 
ness and intelligence greatly attracted him ; and he, 
on the other hand, had much to say about matters 
in which Cleanor was profoundly interested. The 
conversation often turned on the deeds of those 
Jewish heroes, the Maccabees. The old merchant, for 
all his show of cynicism and worldliness, was really 
proud of his countrymen. And he had wonderful 
stories to tell of endurance and courage, of tender- 
ly nurtured women bearing unheard-of agonies, 
mothers who saw all their children tortured to 
death before their eyes sooner than break the law, 
and men who went calmly to certain death if they 
could work thereby any deliverance for their 
country. 

These stories he would always introduce with 
something like an apology. He had heard them 
from his son. He was too old to be enthusiastic 
about anything, but still his young friend might 
like to hear them. Then, as he told them, his eyes 
would kindle, and his voice thrill almost in spite of 
himself. 

“ Listen to this ; ” this was one of his narratives ; 
“ we are forbidden to eat the flesh of swine. I dare- 
say it seems very ridiculous to you, though by the 
way, your own Pythagoras would not let his dis- 
ciples eat beans. Still a law is a law, and, whether 


104 


LORDS OF THE WORLD 


it be wise or foolish, the man or woman who will 
die sooner than break it is a noble soul. King An- 
tiochus swore that he would not be mocked by a 
set of slaves — so the hound dared to speak of our 
people. What was good enough for him was good 
enough for them. If he chose to give them good 
food, they should eat it, law or no law. 

‘‘He had a Jewish mother and her seven sons 
brought up before him, and tried to bend them to 
his will. The eldest of the seven stood up and 
spoke for his brothers. ‘What you ask, O king, 
is against our law, and we will die rather than do 
it.’ Antiochus cried in his rage, ‘Does he speak 
thus to his master? Cut out the fellow’s tongue.’ 
Why should I tell you all the horrid story. They 
mangled him and burnt him cruelly till he died. 
They brought the second. ‘Wilt thou eat?’ 
shouted the king. ‘ I will not,’ said he. And they 
dealt with him as they had dealt with the first. So 
they did with them one after the other. And all 
the while those that were left, and the woman her- 
self, exhorted each one to bear himself bravely, and 
to die sooner than yield. So it went on till there 
was but one left, the youngest of the seven. ‘ Hear, 
young man,’ said the king to him. ‘These six 
have died in their folly. Do you be wise. Eat of 
this food, which is surely one of the good things 
that the gods have given us, and I will promote you 


A PINCHBECK ALEXANDER 


105 


to honour.’ And when the lad, for he was of but 
tender years, refused, the king turned to the mother 
seeking to persuade her that she might in turn per- 
suade her son. After a while she pretended to be 
convinced. ‘ I will persuade him, O king,’ she said. 
But her persuasion was this : i Have pity on me, 
my son ; remember that I bare thee and nourished 
thee ; endure therefore whatsoever this butcher may 
do, so that I may receive in the world to come all 
the seven of you, and lose not one.’ So he too en- 
dured and died. And after the seven had been slain 
before her eyes, the mother also was slain. Tell 
me,” cried the old man, “did any Spartan mother 
of them all equal this 1 

“Then, again, hear the tale of Eleazar, who was 
surnamed the Beast-slayer, what he did when Judas 
the Hammer fought the army of King Antiochus at 
the House of Zachariah. The king had brought a 
score of elephants with him. You know the beast 
if you come from Africa, and that he is not so ter- 
rible as he looks, and is scarcely more apt to hurt 
his foes than his friends. But let me tell you that 
he who sees him for the first time without trem- 
bling is braver than most men. So it happened 
that our soldiers were not a little terrified at the 
sight. Then this Eleazar, who was brother to J udas, 
seeing that one of the beasts was bigger than the 
rest, and more splendidly equipped, as if he car- 


106 


LORDS OF THE WORLD 


ried the king himself, ran furiously into the com- 
pany in which it was — for each beast had a com- 
pany of soldiers round it— slaying right and left 
as he ran till he came to the beast. The creature’ s 
breast and shoulders were protected with plates of 
brass, but his belly, as being out of reach, was left 
unguarded, and here it was that Eleazar dealt him a 
great blow with his sword, and continued to strike 
him till the beast fell dead and crushed this brave 
Jew in his fall.” 

As for the young Greek, he was astonished to find 
that this fanatical and superstitious people — for 
so he had always been accustomed to think of the 
Jews — could boast of warriors and statesmen quite 
equal to any that his own nation had produced. 
Leonidas himself and his Three Hundred had not 
'shown a more desperate courage at Thermopylae 
than Judas Maccabaeus and his scanty band of fol- 
lowers had displayed at Elaim ; Themistocles had 
not exhibited a more subtle and skilful statecraft 
than Jonathan. And while his admiration was ex- 
torted for the Jew, he was equally constrained to 
despise the Greek. Antiochus the Splendid, as he 
called himself, the Crazy, as every one outside the 
circle of court sycophants and flatterers called him , 1 

1 It is impossible to give the play of words which we have in the Greek. 
Epiphanes % “ Splendid,” was the title which Antiochus assumed ; Epimanes, 
“Crazy,” was the nickname to which it was altered. 


A PINCHBECK ALEXANDER 107 

made but a very poor figure by tlie side of Judas 
the Hammer. 

Another highly disturbing fact for the young 
man was this. Where did these patriots find allies \ 
Not in any Greek kingdom — these were all banded 
together against them — but in Rome. It was to 
Rome that Judas had turned in his extremity, and 
in Rome that he found help. The old man’s son 
had acted as secretary to the embassy which Judas 
had sent on this occasion, and had given his im- 
pressions of what he saw and heard in a letter to 
his father, which the old man now showed to his 
guest. It ran thus : 

I am not persuaded that our chief has done well 
in seeking alliance with this heathen people , for 
has not the Lord our God commanded us to have 
no dealings with idolaters f How can we keep 
ourselves separate from them if they become our 
friends , and fight by our side in the battle f But 
this I will confess , that if it be lawful to have any 
nation from among the heathen for our friends, 
that nation is Borne. I had heard much of the 
things that these Bomans have done, and how that 
there is not a nation in the world that has been 
able to stand up against them. The greatness of 
their achievements seemed to be beyond all belief ; 
but after what I have seen in Borne, there is noth - 


108 


LOEDS OF THE WOELD 


ing in them any longer incredible . They make 
kings and unmake them , but none of them puts a 
crown upon his own head , or clothes himself with 
purple. There is no royal palace in their city , but 
a Senate-house , in which three hundred and twenty 
men , every one of them fit to be a king , sit day by day 
taking counsel for the welfare of the people. Every 
year they choose two men to whom they commit the 
ordering of the state and the command of their 
armies. All obey these two without question , and 
there is neither envy nor emulation among them. 

But when Cleanor came to speak of the special 
purpose of his mission he found the old man very 
reserved. “ You want to see the Prince Andriscus, 
for that is the name by which some of us knew him, 
or Perseus, as we are to call him now, I understand. 
Well, I can give you an introduction to the court, 
but that is all that I can do. And I would advise 
you not to build your hopes too much upon what 
you may see or hear now.” 

The introduction was given, but it seemed impos- 
sible to get any further. The king, as he called 
himself, was always too busy to give an audience. 
But for all his being so busy, Cleanor never could 
make out that anything was being done. There 
was no drilling of troops ; there was no gathering 
of stores. But there was a great deal of feasting, 


A PINCHBECK ALEXANDER 109 

and there were some fine performances at the thea- 
tres, not plays, for which the Macedonians did not 
care, but spectacles, on which, so gorgeous were 
they, a vast amount of money must have been 
spent. The king found time to see them, and 
though he was carried in a closed chariot, a method 
of conveyance which Cleanor had always been 
taught to consider effeminate, no one could deny 
that his escort were magnificent men, and wore 
very splendid armour. 

At last the Greek got his long-promised inter- 
view. The first sight of the prince or Pretender, 
whatever we may call him, distinctly impressed 
him. He had the advantage of one of those extra- 
ordinary personal resemblances that have often 
stood pretenders in good stead. His face and fig- 
ure recalled the image, made so familiar by statues, 
pictures, and coins, of the great Alexander, just as 
Alexander himself had seemed an impersonation of 
Achilles, so closely had he resembled the tradi- 
tional representations of the famous hero. A sec- 
ond and longer view of the face did much to dispel 
the illusion. The chin was receding and weak ; 
the full, sensual lips were parted in the way that 
commonly denotes a want of resolution ; the eyes 
were dull and shifty ; habitual intemperance had 
already suffused the skin with a colour which a few 
more years would make disfiguring. When he 


110 


LORDS OF THE WORLD 


spoke, his voice— and there is no greater tell-tale 
than the voice — was rough and uncultured. 

Cleanor presented to the prince the letter of com- 
mendation with which Hasdrubal had furnished 
him. He glanced at it for a few moments, and then 
tossed it to a secretary. The Greek had afterwards 
reason to believe that the prince could not read, 
and that his sole literary accomplishment was a 
laboriously executed signature. He asked a few 
commonplace questions about the progress of the 
siege of Carthage, and the prospects of the future, 
but did not seem to listen to the answers. Then, 
seeming to weary of serious subjects, he turned to 
the more congenial topics of amusement and sport. 
Some chance brought up Cleanor’ s experiences in 
tunny-fishing, and the prince was really roused. 

“I shall go,” he said, in a more determined man- 
ner than he had yet shown, “ and have a try for 
them myself. See,” he went on, turning to one of 
the chief officials of the court, “that you have 
everything ready for an expedition on the day after 
to-morrow.” The man bowed ; he was accustomed 
to see these whims appearand disappear. “You 
shall come with me,” he said to Cleanor. “Dine 
with me to-day, and we will talk it over.” 

But by dinner-time the whim was forgotten. The 
martial mood now had its turn, a frequent incident 
in the Pretender’s convivial hours. A rhapsodist, 





THE MACEDONIAN PRETENDER PERFORMS THE PYRRHIC DANCE 




























































. 





A PINCHBECK ALEXANDER 


111 


made up with no little skill to resemble the blind 
minstrel of the Odyssey, recited from the Iliad the 
valiant deeds of Achilles ; and, later on in the even- 
ing, the Pretender himself performed, as well as 
somewhat unsteady legs permitted him, the Pyrr- 
hic dance. Cleanor left the hall in disgust, under 
cover of the thunders of applause with which this 
display was greeted. It enraged him to think how 
much time and trouble he had wasted on this mis- 
erable mountebank. It was not from such as lie 
that any help could be gained to check the growing 
power of Pome. His disappointment was made all 
the keener by the tidings which awaited him on his 
return to his lodgings. His host put into his hands 
a missive which had just been brought for him. It 
was a despatch from Hasdrubal, and ran thus : 

Hasdrubal to Cleanor , greeting. 

I ham heard this day from friends in Rome 
that it is already settled among the chief men of 
the tribes that Scipio is to be chosen Consut for the 
year to come. Some will object , but more for forrris 
sake than in earnest , that he is below the proper 
age for the consuVs office. But the people are 
wearied of incompetent men , and are determined 
to choose him who has , they say , the fate of Car- 
thage for his inheritance. May Hercules avert the 
omen ! Yet be sure both that this will be done , and 


112 


LORDS OF THE WORLD 


that being done it will mean much. Return there- 
fore with all possible speed . If you have found 
any friends for our country urge them to do what 
they can without delay. Never did we need help 
more , or are more ready to reward it. But , in 
any case , come back yourself. There is great work 
to be done , and great honour to be gained ; nor is 
there anything which , if the gods favour our coun- 
try , you may not hope for , or rather , demand. 
Farewell ! 

Cleanor had done nothing, though he might 
fairly say that he had found nothing to do ; and it 
was a relief to him to find that his course of action 
at last lay plainly before him. The two sides in the 
great struggle were closing in ; he knew where his 
own place was, and that he could not take it too 
soon. But it was no easy matter to discover how 
he was to get there. HasdrubaFs despatch had 
taken nearly two months to reach him, for it had 
been sent off very soon after his own departure 
from Africa. It was now close upon the end of the 
year, and with the New Year would come the elec- 
tion of consuls at Rome. Scipio, once put into 
power, would not, he was sure, let the grass grow 
under his feet ; he himself, too, must lose no 
time if he was to serve Carthage to any purpose. 
Fortunately he had ample funds at his disposal. 


A PINCHBECK ALEXANDER 


113 


By tlie help of Hosius he found a fast-sailing pin- 
nace, whose owner was willing for the handsome 
consideration of ten minse 1 to risk the perils of a 
winter voyage. A brisk north-easter carried them 
to Corinth in three days. It was easy to get from 
Corinth to Patrse, for traffic went on, winter and 
summer alike, in the land-locked Corinthian Gulf. 
There he was upon the regular route between the 
East and Italy, a route by which so much indispen- 
sable business was done that it was never quite 
closed. At Patrse he found a Roman official, just 
appointed to the commissariat of the army at 
Carthage, who was on his way to Rome. He was 
expecting the arrival of a ship which was to touch 
for him, on its way from Ambracia to Brundisium. 

On its arrival, which took place next day, Cleanor 
went on board with his new acquaintance, and ar- 
ranged to travel with him to Italy. He assumed 
the character of a student at Athens, leaving that 
city for a time on account of the troubles that 
seemed imminent in Greece. He knew enough of 
the place from his former residence to play the part 
with success, and he had ascertained that there was 
no genuine student on board. 

At Brundisium the party was met with the news 
that the prediction of Hasdrubal’s Roman corre- 

1 About £40, if we reckon, as usual, by weight of bullion at the standard 
price. 


8 


114 


LORDS OF THE WORLD 


spondent had been fulfilled — Scipio had been elected 
consul for the year, with Africa for his province. 
Their informant described the scene as one of inde- 
scribable enthusiasm. The tribes had simply re- 
fused to hear any other name. Candidates of credit 
and even of high reputation had been proposed, but 
it had been only in dumb-sliow, the voices of their 
proposers being drowned in the continuous roar of 
“Scipio! Scipio!” 

A hasty meeting of the Senate had been called, 
and a resolution passed suspending the law which 
fixed the qualifying age at forty-two. So engrossed 
was the people with the election of their favourite 
that it was not easy to induce them to give him a 
colleague. The assembly dismissed, Rome had 
given itself up to a frenzy of rejoicing, which could 
not have been greater if Carthage had already 
fallen. It was an absolute faith with every one 
that he was “ born for the destruction of Carthage,” 
and such a faith has a way of working out its own 
fulfilment. 

Cleanor was now in a very difficult position. The 
audacious thought presented itself that he might 
engage himself in some capacity with the forces 
about to proceed from Italy, and, once arrived in 
Africa, take an opportunity of deserting. But the 
plan was not only perilous, for there was a great 
risk of detention — Scipio seemed to be one of those 


A PINCHBECK ALEXANDER 


115 


men whose eyes are everywhere — but it had a dis- 
honourable look. But some stratagem would be 
necessary, and Cleanor’s conscience did not forbid 
him to employ it. 

A fortunate chance cleared his way. His fellow- 
passenger, the commissariat officer, happened to re- 
member that he had spoken of his being on his way 
to Sicily, and asked him whether by chance he 
knew anything of the corn-market in that island. 
The Italian supply, on which considerable demands 
were being made, would certainly fall short, and 
nothing could be got from Africa, exhausted as it 
was by the war. Cleanor, though hating to say the 
thing that was not, declared that he had an uncle 
at Agrigentum who was engaged in the business, 
that he was on his way to his home, and would de- 
liver any message which it would be a convenience 
to send. 

The Homan caught eagerly at the suggestion. 
He jotted down the number of bushels of wheat 
which he should probably want, and the price 
which he would be willing to give. The details of 
the business, methods of transport, terms of pay- 
ment, and other matters might be settled with the 
agent who represented Rome at Agrigentum. He 
also gave our hero what was known as a diploma, 
a word which we may represent in a way by “ pass- 
port,” but which really meant a great deal more. 


116 


LORDS OF THE WORLD 


The bearer of it could requisition horses and car- 
riages, in short, any of the instruments of travel 
that belonged to the state. Without this it would 
hardly have been possible to proceed. A great 
campaign was about to begin, and every kind of 
conveyance was practically engaged. 

With this document in his hand Cleanor found 
everything open before him ; he called on a mer- 
chant with whom, though not a kinsman, he had 
some acquaintance, and handed him the Roman’s 
order. This done he made his way as quickly as 
possible to the coast, where he was lucky enough 
to find a small vessel in the coasting trade that was 
just starting for Africa. There is a humble com- 
merce that, luckily for those that conduct it, goes 
on through all the stress of war. This vessel was 
engaged in it ; and by its opportune help Cleanor, 
two days later, found himself in Africa, and in two 
more had reached Carthage. 


THE TWO HASDEUBALS 


117 


CHAPTER XI 

THE TWO HASDEUBALS 

C LEANOR found the streets of Carthage in a state 
of the wildest confusion. The news that had 
brought him back thither in such hot haste had 
made a profound impression upon the city itself. 
The name of Scipio was no less powerful a charm 
at Carthage than it was at Rome. Only it spelt de- 
feat and ruin in Africa, while in Italy it seemed a 
sure augury of success. Still, the spirit of the na- 
tion was not broken. It was one of the charac- 
teristics of the great family of mankind to which 
the people of Carthage belonged to fight desperately 
when driven to stand at bay. The longest, the most 
stubbornly defended sieges in history have been 
when some Semitic people has been reduced to its 
last stronghold. 

The Punic race was now prepared to show the 
same fierce, unyielding fury of resistance with 
which, some two centuries later, their Jewish kins- 
men were to meet the overpowering assault of the 
same enemy. One step, not taken without reluc- 
tance, but absolutely demanded by the necessities 
of the situation, was to bring within the walls the 
army that up to this time had been encamped out- 


118 


LORDS OF THE WORLD 


side. This force was largely, indeed almost wholly, 
composed of mercenaries, and Carthage never 
trusted her mercenaries more than she could help. 
She had had frequent difficulties with them ; once 
she had been brought by their rebellion almost to 
ruin. It was a law, accordingly, that they should 
never be admitted in any great number within the 
walls. This law had now, perforce, to be repealed. 
It would be rash to risk a battle in the field, when 
defeat would mean so much ; on the other hand, 
the defences of the city needed all the men that 
could be found, if they were to be adequately garri- 
soned. 

Cleanor on his arrival found that the process of 
moving the outside army into the city was in full 
swing. The roads that led to the gates w r ere thronged 
with a motley nyultitude, for Carthage drew her hired 
soldiers from a very wide area indeed. There was 
every variety of hue, from the fair-haired son of 
Celt or Teuton of Northern Europe, to the thick- 
lipped, woolly-haired, ebony-coloured negroes, who 
had been drawn b} r the report of Carthaginian 
wealth from remote regions even beyond the Desert. 
The languages which they spoke were as various as 
their complexions. It had been said by a writer 
who told the story of the great revolt of the mer- 
cenaries a hundred years before , 1 that the only word 

1 241 b.c. 


THE TWO HASDRUBALS 


119 


which they had in common was some equivalent of 
to “kill.” They were still as polyglot, and, so at 
least it seemed to Cleanor, almost as savage. Much 
of the talk that he overheard as he made his way 
along the crowded roads was unintelligible to him, 
but he understood enough to make him sure that 
anger and suspicion were rife among them. 

He had intended to propose himself as a guest 
of the Hasdrubal who commanded the forces within 
the walls. Hasdrubal was a grandson of King Masi- 
nissa, and would be certain to give him a friendly 
reception. But it was so late in the evening before 
he could disentangle himself from the throng that 
blocked all the approaches to the city that he de- 
cided to postpone till the morrow the delivery of his 
credentials. Under these circumstances he was glad 
to accept the invitation of Gisco, whom my readers 
may remember as a staff-officer of the other Has- 
drubal, to share his quarters. These were in the 
guest-hall attached to the palace of the higli-priest 
of Melcart. 

A large company of officers was present at the 
evening meal, and when the wine, which for flavour 
and strength was fully worthy of priestly cellars, 
had passed round, there was little reserve in the 
conversation. Cleanor’s presence was unnoticed, or, 
possibly as the guest and friend of Gisco, he was 
supposed to be in sympathy with the views held by 


120 


LORDS OF THE WORLD 


the rest of the company. It soon became abun- 
dantly clear to the listener that feeling was running 
very high against the Hasdrubal who commanded 
the city army. 

“I don’t like the breed,” said one of Cleanor’s 
neighbours. “ He has got more than enough of 
Masinissa’s blood in him, and Masinissa, I take 
it, was about the worst enemy that Carthage ever 
had.” 

For anything more definite Cleanor listened in 
vain. It seemed to be taken for granted that a man 
with this parentage could not be faithful to his 
country. That he had betrayed Carthage no one 
ventured to assert. No one could even bring up 
against him any instance of mistake or negligence. 
It was not even denied that he had managed the de- 
fence of the city with distinguished success. Cer- 
tainly no such disaster could be laid to his charge 
as the crushing defeat which the other Hasdrubal. 
had received some four years before at the hands of 
King Masinissa. The young Greek had forcibly to 
repress a strong inclination to speak up for the ac- 
cused ; but he saw that his interference would be 
useless. The best, in fact the only service that he 
could do to the unfortunate man was to warn him of 
his danger. 

The question was how the warning was to be 
given. It was hardly possible to leave the guest- 


TIIE TWO HASDRUBALS 


121 


house that night. Sentinels had been placed at the 
doors, and these could not be passed without the 
watchword, and this he did not happen to know. 
All that lie could do was to take care that no time 
should be lost in the morning. Fortunately Gisco, 
whose chamber he shared — the guest-house being 
crowded with company to its fullest capacity — was 
the officer on guard for the next day. Just before 
dawn an orderly roused him from his sleep, and, 
giving him the watchword for the day, communi- 
cated to himself overnight, left him, to relieve the 
sentries. 

Half an hour afterwards Cleanor, having satisfied 
the challenge of the sentinel, passed out by the 
gate, and, hastening through the deserted streets, 
made the best of his way to the mansion of Has- 
drubal. So little did that general suspect any dan- 
ger that he had not even taken the precaution of 
placing a sentinel at his gate. The sleepy porter 
admitted Cleanor without asking a question, though 
not without a grumble at the unseasonableness of 
so early a visit. 

The huge negro who slept outside the general’s 
door did not let him pass so readily. As the man 
did not understand a word of either Carthaginian, 
Latin, or Greek — no bad qualification for an official 
who had to refuse troublesome visitors — argument 
was useless. Cleanor, who felt that not a moment 


122 


LORDS OF THE WORLD 


must be lost in rousing the general, raised liis voice 
to its loudest, with the result that in another minute 
Hasdrubal opened the door of his chamber. 

He had a slight acquaintance with the Greek, 
knew his story, and had a general idea of the mis- 
sion from which he had just returned. 

“Come in,” he said, “you are welcome. And 
you ” — turning to the negro attendant — “ fetch two 
cups of mulsum .” 1 

Cleanor briefly stated the cause of his visit, and 
Hasdrubal heard him with undisturbed calm. 

“I hardly know,” he said, when the story was 
[finished, “whether I am surprised or not. I must 
own that I did not expect this particular form of at- 
tack, but I did expect that my namesake would do 
his best to oust me from my place as soon as he had 
orders to bring his troops within the walls. I quite 
see that now, when all our army is brought together 
into one, there must be one general, and I should 
have been ready to resign. But after what 3^011 have 
told me I must face it out ; to resign would be al- 
most to acknowledge that there is something in 
what these knaves, and the fools that follow them, 
say. There is to be a meeting of the Senate at noon 
to-day, and the question of the Command is down 

1 This was a drink made out of wine (mixed with water) and honey. It was 
frequently taken (warm) early in the day, being considered a wholesome 
draught for an empty stomach. 


THE TWO IIASDRUBALS 


123 


for debate. Of course I shall be there. So much 
for that ; but you must understand that I am im- 
mensely obliged to you. I had intended to offer you 
a post on my staff, but, as things are at present, the 
less you have to do with a suspected man the bet- 
ter for you. If things turn out more favourably 
than I fear they may — we will certainly talk of this 
again.” 

“But, sir,” broke in the Greek with some heat, 
“it is surely impossible that the Senate should 
listen to such palpable absurdities as this. Why, 
there is not a general in Carthage who has such a 
record of successes as yours.” 

“My dear young friend,” replied the general, 
“you don’t know us. The Carthaginians always 
suspect their generals. We always fight with a 
rope, so to speak, round our necks. If we are vic- 
torious they fear that we shall become too power- 
ful, and protect themselves by the stroke of a 
dagger or a pinch of poison in our wine. If we are 
defeated, there is the usual penalty. They crucify 
us by way of an encouragement to our successors. 
It is not revenge, it is suspicion that moves them. 
They cannot imagine that they can be beaten except 
by treachery. It is a terrible mistake, and Carthage 
suffers for it by being far worse served than Rome. 
Rome has a plan that looks like the merest folly. 
She takes a man because he is popular with the 


124 


LORDS OF THE WORLD 


shopmen and artisans of the city and the farmers 
from the country, and puts him to command her 
armies. Yet it works well, because the Romans 
trust each other. What a splendid thing it was 
that they did when their Consul Yarro as nearly as 
possible brought them to ruin by losing their army 
at Cannse ! The Senate and the people went out to 
meet him, and thanked him for not despairing of 
the Republic. And indeed a Republic where such 
things are possible need never be despaired of. But 
it is useless to talk. And now for yourself. Get 
away from this house as soon as you can, and go 
by the private door which the negro will show you. 
No ; not another word. Carthage will not let me 
serve her any more, but she need not lose you also. 
Farewell ! ” 

Hasdrubal touched a small gong which stood by 
his bed, and when the negro appeared in answer to 
the summons gave him the brief instruction : 

“ The postern-gate for this gentleman.” 

Cleanor followed his guide, and in a short time 
was shown out into an unfrequented lane which ran 
at the back of Hasdrubal’s house. He reached his 
quarters before the other guests had commenced 
their morning meal. 

The prudent course for him to follow was, obvi- 
ously, to stand aside and watch the progress of 
events. Yet such prudence was alien to his temper. 


THE TWO HASDRUBALS 


125 


Hasdrubal was the hereditary friend of his family, 
and he was related to the old king from whom 
Cleanor had received such unexpected kindness. 
There was but the faintest chance that he should 
be able to give him any help ; but to Cleanor it 
seemed ungrateful, and even inhuman, to stand 
aloof. But what was he to do ? To begin with, he 
was met with what seemed an insuperable difficulty 
— the meetings of the Senate were of course private. 
How was he to gain admission? This obstacle, 
however, was soon removed. Grisco brought him a 
message from his chief that he had been summoned 
to attend a meeting of the Senate, and desired his 
attendance as one of his body-guard. 

The meeting of the Senate, held as usual in the 
temple of Baal - Hammon, otherwise known as 
Moloch, was an imposing scene. On two thrones 
in the eastern semicircular recess of the building — 
corresponding to the sanctuary in the Hebrew tem- 
ple or the chancel or apse in a Christian church — 
sat the two kings or Shophetim, wearing robes of 
the richest Tyrian purple, with richly jewelled dia- 
dems on their heads. Facing them were semicircu- 
lar benches, crowded with the members of the Inner 
Senate, as it may be called. Scarcely one of the 
Hundred — this was the number to which it was 
limited — was absent from his post. Further re- 
moved were other benches similarly arranged, and 


126 


LORDS OF THE WORLD 


set apart for the Four Hundred or Outer Senate. 
It was evident at once that, whatever might be the 
usual custom, this meeting at least was not private. 
The body of the temple was filled with a vast crowd, 
separated from the assembly itself by nothing more 
than a slight barrier of wood. Hasdrubal of the 
Camp, as we may call him by way of distinction, 
was seated just within this ; his body-guard were 
ranged close behind him, but on the outer side of 
the barrier. The other Hasdrubal occupied his 
usual place as one of the Inner Senate. 

The proceedings of the day having been opened 
with the customary ceremonies, the senior king 
called upon Mago, son of Hamilcar, to bring for- 
ward the motion of which he had given notice. 
Mago, an elderly man, whose countenance greatly 
belied him if he was not an incarnation of the 
Punic bad faith which had passed into a proverb, 
rose in his place and made a speech of studied 
moderation. 

“Humours,” he said, “have for some days been 
current in the city that Carthage is not faithfully 
served by some of those to whom she has com- 
mitted offices of great dignity and importance. One 
man has been specially pointed to. For my part I 
refuse to believe that a soldier who has often dis- 
tinguished himself in the field can be unfaithful to 
the country which he has served so well. But the 


THE TWO HASDRUBALS 


127 


best service that can be rendered to a man accused 
— may I not say calumniated ? — is to give him the 
opportunity of defence. I accordingly move that 
Hasdrubal, son of Mago — for why should I refrain 
from mentioning a name which is on the lips of 
everyone ? — be called upon to give to the Senate 
any explanations that he may think proper to 
make.’’ 

An approving murmur ran through the crowd 
when the speaker sat down. The accused man rose 
in his place, but before he could speak another 
senator had intervened. 

“ I do not see,” said this senator, “ that Hasdru- 
bal, son of Mago, has anything to explain. No evi- 
dence has been brought against him. I have not 
even heard any charge, except it be that there are 
rumours against him. What man is there against 
whom there are not rumours ? And the better the 
man the more malignant the rumours. I move that 
the Senate proceed to the next business.” 

A murmur, not by any means of approval, rose 
from the crowd. Hasdrubal, who had resumed his 
seat while the last speaker was addressing the Sen- 
ate, rose again. 

“I have nothing to explain,” he said. “You 
know me, who I am, and what I have done.” 

“Yes, we know you!” cried a voice from the 


128 


LORDS OF THE WORLD 


crowd. “The grandson of that accursed brigand, 
Masinissa.” 

The name was met with a howl of fury from the 
multitude, followed by deafening cries of “ Bri- 
gand !” “Traitor !” Hasdrubal faced the uproar 
without flinching. But it was an hour of such mad- 
ness as makes men blind and deaf to all that might 
appeal to their better feelings. Something might 
be said, not in excuse, but in explanation of the 
frenzy. An imperial race, reared in traditions of 
greatness, felt itself to be approaching the hour of 
servitude or extinction, and it raged like a wild 
beast in a net. Nothing that came within reach of 
its fury was likely to be spared. The multitude 
surged forward, the wooden barrier gave way, and 
the inclosed space assigned to the senators was 
crowded in an instant with a raging crowd. 

Cleanor caught one glimpse of the doomed man’s 
face, pale but still resolute. The next moment it 
had disappeared. 

He sprang forward, crying, “ Save him ! ” though, 
unarmed as he was, for no weapon was allowed 
within the building, he felt miserably helpless. In 
fact, he could have done nothing, and, fortunately 
for himself, he was not even permitted to try. His 
arms were seized from behind, and a cloak was 
thrown over his head. The next moment he felt 
himself lifted from the ground, and carried, he 


THE TWO IIASDRUBALS 


129 


knew not whither. He conld not even struggle, for 
both arms and legs had been deftly secured, while 
his voice was choked by the covering that enveloped 
his head. 

When, half an hour afterwards, the cloak was 
removed, he found himself in a small chamber, with 
no companion but a slave, who was apparently a 
deaf-mute, as he replied to all questions with the 
single gesture of putting his finger on his lips. 

In the course of another half-hour Gisco appeared. 

“ My dear fellow,” he said, “ pardon this violence, 
which would, indeed, be inexcusable, if it had not 
been the only way of saving your life. Believe me, 
you have friends who will soon, I hope, find more 
agreeable ways of showing their go(f&-will than 
they were forced to this morning. You have been 
watched ever since you came into Carthage, though 
you have not known it. The council have spies 
everywhere, and they know their business. They 
knew that } 7 ou were a friend of Hasdrubal, and felt 
sure that you would do your best to help him 
They followed you to his house, they heard what 
you said to him and he to you, and they brough t 
the report to the chief. He has a great liking for 
you, and gave me carte blanche to do what I 
pleased, if only I could keep you out of danger. 
So, if there has been anything rude in the method 
of saving you, it is I whom you must blame. Believe 


130 


LORDS OF THE WORLD 


me, you would have sacrificed yourself for nothing. 
It was impossible to save Hasdrubal. The fact is, he 
ought to have taken warning long ago, for warning 
he has had in plenty. Again and again he has been 
told that a grandson of Masinissa could never be 
safe in Carthage, and he ought to have gone long- 
ago. Mind, I say nothing against him. He was 
obstinate, but it was a noble obstinacy. He knew 
himself to be blameless, and he wanted to save 
Carthage.’ ’ 

“And what has happened to him?” asked 
Cleanor. 

“The worst, I fear,” answered Gisco ; “ but more 
I really do not know. I was busy with your affair, 
and saw nothing.” 

Cleanor heard the shocking story afterwards from 
an eye-witness. The crowd, led by some of the 
senators — his informant was positive on the point 
that some of the senators had a hand in the deed — 
had torn up the benches from their fastenings, 
broken them into fragments, and beaten the unfort- 
unate man to death. The victim had made no re- 
sistance — had not even uttered a cry. 


SCIPIO SETS TO WORK 


131 


CHAPTER XII 

SCIPIO SETS TO WORK 

C LEANOR, though he had no proofs of Hasdru- 
bal’s complicity in the crime just committed, 
could not rid himself of the suspicion that he had 
had something to do with it. No one profited by it 
more ; he had been present when the deed was done, 
and had not spoken a word or lifted a finger to hin- 
der it. Such a suspicion was enough in itself to 
make any post which brought him into close con- 
tact with the general distasteful to the young man. 
And Hasdrubal’s personal habits were revolting to 
his taste. The man was given over to gluttony. He 
had a sufficiently clear intelligence and some mili- 
tary skill, but the enormous meals in which he in- 
dulged produced a condition of torpor which dis- 
abled him during a great part of the day. 

Clean or, therefore, was not a little pleased when, 
through the good offices of Gisco, he was attached 
to the staff of one of Hasdrubal’s lieutenants, Him- 
ilco by name. Himilco had charge of a portion of 
the wall looking towards the sea, about four stadia 
in length. Cleanor had the duty, which he shared 
with another officer, of seeing that the sentinels 
were properly vigilant during the night. Each was 


132 


LORDS OF THE WORLD 


responsible for two of tlie four watches, their prac- 
tice being for one to take the first and fourth, the 
other the second and third. 

At this time the chief interest of the siege was 
centred at this point, where it seemed not improb- 
able that the Romans would have to suffer a very 
serious check. The second-in-command of the be- 
sieging force, who had a special charge of the fleet, 
an officer of more enterprise than judgment, had 
seen, as he thought, a chance of greatly distinguish- 
ing himself. Having taken advantage of a long 
spell of settled weather to stand-in more closely 
than usual to the shore, he had observed, or rather 
it had been pointed out to him b}^ a sharp-sighted 
young officer, a portion of the ramparts which ap- 
peared to be insufficiently guarded. The wall here 
ran along the top of a precipice, so steep and inac- 
cessible that it might almost seem unnecessary to 
supplement by art the provision of nature. Such 
spots, however, while they seem to be the strongest, 
are often in fact the weakest part of a fortification . 1 
A fortunate chance put Mancinus — this was the 
Roman admiral’s name — in possession of the fact 
that the cliffs were not by any means so difficult of 
access as they seemed. One of the fishermen who 
plied their trade along the coast had come on board 

1 The reader will remember the capture of Quebec by Wolfe’s daring plan 
of scaling the Heights of Abraham. 


SCIPIO SETS TO WORK 


133 


the admiral’s ship with a cargo of fish for sale. He 
was asked whether there was any way of scaling 
the cliffs, and replied that there was, and promised, 
in consideration of a couple of gold pieces, to act as 
guide. Mancinus accordingly, having waited for a 
dull night, landed a force of about a thousand men. 
The guide fulfilled his promise and showed them 
the path, which, thanks to the negligence of the be- 
sieged, they found entirely unguarded. 

For a time everything went well. The sentinels 
had come to regard this beat as one which might be 
neglected without risk. When they chanced to be 
told off to this duty they were accustomed to sleep 
as unconcernedly as if they had been in their beds 
at home. About fifty or sixty of the assailants had 
mounted the walls by help of scaling-ladders when 
the alarm was given. The besieged had organized 
a flying detachment of five hundred men, whose 
business it was to be ready for any emergency, and 
to hurry at once to any spot where they might be 
wanted. 

This force now came up at full speed, and the * 
few who had mounted the wall were promptly dis- 
lodged. This done, the officer in command ordered 
the nearest gate to be opened, and sallied out at the 
head of his men. But he had not expected to find 
so formidable a force opposed to him. His division 
was completely overmatched, and was driven back 


134 


LORDS OF THE WORLD 


within the walls, the Romans making their way 
through the gate — which there had been no time to 
shut — along with the retreating enemy. 

Both sides were now reinforced, the Carthagin- 
ians by fresh detachments from the garrison, the 
Romans by Mancinus himself with another contin- 
gent from the fleet. The result of the fighting, which 
was continued throughout the night, was that the 
Romans retired from within the walls, but occupied 
a fairly strong position outside. 

In earlier days, when the idea that Carthaginian 
territory could be successfully invaded had not oc- 
curred to anyone, a wealthy merchant of the city 
had built himself a mansion on a space of level 
ground between the wall and the cliff. The mansion 
was surrounded with spacious gardens and orchards, 
and these again were protected from trespassers by 
a deep ditch and a wall of unusual height. Here 
Mancinus intrenched himself. He still cherished 
the hope that he might make good his footing, and 
use the position as a starting-point for successful 
operations against the city. What a splendid 
achievement it would be if he could falsify what 
had come to be a commonly accepted belief, if it 
was to turn out that a Mancinus, not a Scipio, was 
the conqueror of Carthage ! And indeed he was so 
far right that he always had the credit of having 


SCIPIO SETS TO WORK 135 

been the first to effect a lodgment within the boun- 
daries of Carthage itself . 1 

For the present, however, his position was pre- 
carious. He had no stock of provisions with him, 
except that the men had been ordered to carry ra- 
tions for three days. Supplies could, of course, be 
obtained from the ships, but only so long as the 
weather continued fine. A week of strong wind 
from the sea would reduce him to absolute starva- 
tion. Of water there was already a scarcity. The 
builder of the mansion had provided an ample sup- 
ply for a large household, but there was nothing 
like enough for between two and three thousand 
men. And, apart from the difficulties about food 
and drink, the position was not one which could be 
permanently held. The wall round the mansion, 
for instance, was not a military fortification. It 
was meant to keep out trespassers, not to resist 
battering-rams. 

1 Mancinus was elected one of the consuls for the year 145 B.C. There is a 
curious story, that after the conclusion of the war he exhibited in the Forum 
of Rome maps and plans of Carthage, showing where the various attacks 
had been made, and that he was never weary of explaining to the people the 
operations of the siege. This conduct, the story continues, made him so 
popular that he offered himself as a candidate for the consulship, and was 
successful. This story looks somewhat strange as it stands. The consulship 
was a very great honour, and, what is more, a serious responsibility. It 
would hardly have been bestowed on ihe giver of a popular and entertaining 
exhibition. But there may have been a general feeling that Mancinus had 
really done good service in the siege— had shown the way, so to speak, for 
the capture of the city. 


136 


LORDS OF THE WORLD 


This, then, was the state of affairs when Cleanor 
took np his command. Two days had passed since 
Mancinus had occupied the position outside the 
walls, and he was already in distress. The contin- 
gency for which he had made no provision had 
occurred. The wind was blowing strongly from the 
sea, and the captains of the fleet had thought it 
prudent to stand off from the shore. The Cartha- 
ginians were perfectly well aware of the condition 
of affairs. They had intercepted a messenger carry- 
ing an urgent appeal for help to head-quarters, and 
knew that, unless there was a change of weather, 
the Romans must be reduced to extremities. Their 
policy was, of course, to sit still and wait. There 
was, indeed, a good chance that if the battering- 
rams were vigorously applied to the walls, a breach 
might be made, and an assault successfully made. 
But an assault, whatever the result, would cost many 
lives. And of all men no one is more bound to be 
economical of life than he who commands the garri- 
son of a besieged town ; and this for the simple 
reason that he cannot hope to get recruits. In the 
course of two or three days more the Romans would 
have to capitulate, or fight at a terrible disadvantage. 
Scipio, it was true, was now daily expected, and, if 
lie arrived in time, would be sure to make a vigor- 
ous effort to save his countrymen. But that he 
should arrive in time seemed almost impossible. 


SCIPIO SETS TO WORK 


137 


But the Carthaginians did not know Scipio. 
Cleanor himself — who, as has been seen, had had 
opportunities of estimating the remarkable qualities 
of the man — was taken by surprise, such were the 
energy and the promptitude with which the Roman 
acted. With that remarkable foresight which he 
did not scruple himself to attribute to divine 
prompting, and which we may anyhow describe as 
genius, he had made special preparation for such a 
contingency as had actually occurred. He had 
selected the ten swiftest ships out of the fleet 
which accompanied him from Italy, and had put on 
board them a picked force of five hundred men. 
With this squadron he had outstripped the slower 
sailers by not less than forty-eight hours, an in- 
valuable saving of time, as it turned out. 

He reached Utica, which was about twenty-seven 
miles west of Carthage, at sunset on the day on 
which Mancinus had sent his appeal for help. Two 
of the three messengers who had been despatched 
on this errand had been captured, but one had 
contrived to elude the Carthaginian watchmen, and 
had reached Utica at midnight. Scipio did not lose 
a moment. His own men were ready for instant 
action, but they were scarcely numerous enough for 
the work which they might have to do. 

He found abundance of help in Utica. At an 
earlier period of the war he had spent seven months 


138 


LORDS OF THE WORLD 


in this town in command of a detachment quartered 
there. The influence of his extraordinary person- 
ality had made itself felt in Utica as it did every- 
where else. Old and young in the city were devoted 
to him. What we should now call a battalion of 
volunteers had been raised, of which he had con- 
sented to be the honorary tribune. Late as it was, 
he sent a herald through the streets with notice 
that this force was to muster immediately at the 
harbour. In the course of little more than an hour 
the battalion had assembled at the place indicated 
for a rendezvous in full strength, not a single mem- 
ber, except some half-dozen incapacitated by sick- 
ness, being absent. A requisition also was made 
for lads and elderly men, and of these there was 
such a throng that the task for which they were 
wanted, carrying provisions and stores on board the 
squadron, might have been done five times over. 
All worked with such a will that before sunrise 
everything was actually ready, and the squadron 
was able to make a start. 

Scipio’s arrival had been observed at Carthage, 
the harbour of Utica being distinctly visible, not- 
withstanding the distance, through the clear atmos- 
phere of the north African coast. He had himself 
taken pains to assure its being known, for he was 
not above utilizing to the utmost the impression 
made, as he was well aware, by his name. He had 


SCIPIO SETS TO WORK 


139 


no sooner reached Utica than he ordered that some 
seamen, who were among the Carthaginian prisoners, 
should be set free, supplied with a fast-sailing pin- 
nace, and commissioned to deliver at Carthage the 
message, “ Scipio is come” 

That he would hasten to the relief of Mancinus 
everyone in Carthage knew, and orders were issued 
accordingly that the position of that general should 
be attacked as soon as possible after dawn. This 
was prompt, but it was not prompt enough. 

The night, indeed, was not lost. Battering-rams 
were brought to bear upon the wall surrounding 
the mansion, and several breaches were made, ready 
for the storming parties to enter as soon as it was 
light. Before morning, indeed, the wall was so 
shattered that it became practically indefensible, 
and Mancinus abandoned the idea of holding it 
against the assailants. He formed his men into a 
square, with the heavy-armed, who numbered about 
ftve hundred, outside, and the light troops, who 
had no protection beyond a steel cap and small 
target, within. 

Himilco, who personally directed the attack, 
ordered a charge on a corner of the square, where 
the lines had been made up with Numidian auxil- 
iaries. He hoped to find them less sturdy in re- 
sistance than the regular legionaries, who were all 
Italians. Cleanor, who was having his first ex- 


140 


LORDS OF THE WORLD 


perience of serious fighting, was in the front rank 
of the charge, and had the satisfaction of seeing the 
Roman line waver. But it wavered without breaking. 

The Numidians were under the command of a 
deputy centurion, a Picenian mountaineer of huge 
stature and herculean strength. Springing to the 
front he killed a heavily-armed Carthaginian out- 
right with one thrust of his pike. Then he struck 
Cleanor full in the breast. The finely- wrought 
cuirass of steel, a gift from the old king, withstood 
the blow, but the wearer was hurled backward with 
irresistible force and came to the ground with a shock 
which partially stunned him. When Himilco ordered 
a retreat he had to be supported by his companions. 

But though the charge had been repulsed, the 
position of the Roman force was full of peril. The 
lieavily-armed men in the front ranks were no pro- 
tection to their less fully equipped comrades against 
the incessant showers of missiles which the archers, 
javelin-throwers, and slingers rained upon the help- 
less men inside the square. Their own armour was 
not always proof against them, still less against the 
stones which the catapults, now put in position on 
the city walls, discharged into their ranks. The 
whole body continued to edge away out of range 
of the walls, heedless of the fact that every step 
brought them nearer to the cliffs. 

A catastrophe was imminent when Scipio’s squad- 


SCIPIO SETS TO WORK 


141 


ron came in sight. The decks were crowded, every 
available man putting himself as much in evidence 
as possible. This was Scipio’s command, given in 
order to create an impression of greater numbers 
than he really possessed. The effect on the con- 
tending forces was instantaneous and great. The 
Carthaginian leaders felt themselves to be in the 
presence of a formidable antagonist, and stood on 
the defensive. The forces of Mancinus recovered 
the confidence which they had lost. Scipio’s arrival 
was soon followed by the appearance of Mancinus’ 
own ships. For it was one of the many instances 
of the extraordinary good fortune which seemed to 
attend on Scipio throughout his career, that no 
sooner had he appeared on the scene than the 
weather changed. The wind veered round, and now 
blew with moderate strength from the shore. It 
was still a couple of hours from noon when the 
whole force under Mancinus had re-embarked. 

“We must never lose a moment,” said Gisco to 
our hero, when they were talking over the events 
of the day, “if we are to keep up with this won- 
derful man. As to being beforehand with him that 
seems impossible. Who would have thought that, 
after coming all the way from Italy, he would have 
started again almost without giving himself time to 
sup ! This is a very different thing from Piso’s way 
of doing business.” 


142 


LORDS OF THE WORLD 


CHAPTER XIII 

IN THE ROMAN CAMP 

T HERE had been, as has been seen, not a few 
fluctuations of fortune in the conflicts which 
had followed after the landing of Mancinus. One 
result of this had been that a considerable number 
of prisoners had been taken on both sides. Both 
sides, also, were anxious for an exchange. The 
Carthaginians did not care to have any more useless 
men to feed than could be helped ; the Romans 
feared, and not without reason, that their friends 
and comrades would be barbarously treated. Car- 
thage had always had an evil reputation in this re- 
spect, and was only too likely to justify it, if ever 
she should be driven to extremities. 

The envoy who conducted the negotiations on 
behalf of the city was a member of the Senate 
named Maharbal. He had made himself conspicuous 
as a leader of the peace, otherwise the pro- Rom an, 
party, and was supposed, therefore, to be accept- 
able to Scipio. Cleanor accompanied him in the 
capacity of interpreter. The interviews would be 
conducted in Greek, a language which Scipio spoke 
fluently. As for Latin, there was no one in Car- 
thage who was able to speak more than a few words 


IN THE ROMAN CAMP 


143 


of it ; nor was there in the Roman camp any more 
knowledge of the Punic tongue. There could not 
be a greater proof of the irreconcilable hostility of 
the two nations than this mutual ignorance. 

Cleanor’s visit was paid at a very interesting 
time, for the Roman camp was undergoing, at the 
hands of the new commander, a very thorough proc- 
ess of cleansing. It had fallen, under the manage- 
ment of his incompetent predecessors, into a most 
deplorable condition. In the first place it swarmed 
with disreputable camp-followers. There was a 
crowd of sutlers, traders who sold to the soldiers 
various luxuries at the most extravagant prices, 
and bought from them their plunder for ridiculously 
small sums of ready money. There was a still 
greater multitude of soldiers’ servants. Even a 
private trooper must have a slave to groom his 
horse ; and an infantry soldier thought it a hard- 
ship if he had to clean and polish his own arms. As 
some of the officers had a whole establishment of 
attendants, there was a second army of servants 
actually more numerous than the first army of 
fighting men. 

Scipio made short work with these useless and 
mischievous encumbrances. No sutler or dealer 
was allowed to remain in the camp, or even in the 
neighbourhood, unless he held the general’s license. 
Even then he was not allowed to sell any articles 


144 


LORDS OF THE WORLD 


but such as were contained in a very brief list au- 
thorized by the general, and at prices which had 
received his sanction. The purchase of articles from 
the soldiers was absolutely forbidden. Indeed, the 
trade ceased of itself, for plunder was rigidly pro- 
hibited. Any soldier who went further from the 
camp than the bugle could be heard made himself 
liable to be treated as a deserter. The reform in the 
matter of the soldiers’ servants was no less radical. 
Two were allowed to a tribune, one to a centurion, 
and four, who were to be owned and employed in 
common, to a century or company of infantry and 
a troop of cavalry. All these were to be able-bodied 
men, who had learnt military drill ; and they were 
liable on occasion to serve in the ranks. 

Scipio, still acting on the principle which had 
made him announce his arrival to the Carthaginians, 
kept nothing secret from the envoy and his escort ; 
he took pains, on the contrary, that they should see 
and learn everything that was to be seen or learnt. 
He invited them to be present at a general assembly 
of the army, which was summoned during their stay 
in the camp to hear an address from himself. Ma- 
harbal knew, as has been said, next to nothing of 
Latin, and Cleanor did not know enough to enable 
him to follow Scipio throughout. Nevertheless, 
they could see that the effect of the speech was re- 
markable. The orator held his audience, so to 


IN THE ROMAN CAMP 


145 


speak, in the hollow of his hand. He was not speak- 
ing smooth things to his army ; on the contrary, he 
told them that they were robbers rather than sol- 
diers. He laid down for them for the future a most 
rigid discipline ; he gave them no hope of indul- 
gence. But he was heard with profound attention 
and without a murmur of dissent or complaint. 

The next morning Cleanor saw the banished mul- 
titude embark. A stranger spectacle, a more motley 
crowd, and a more curious miscellany of property 
was never beheld. One man was disconsolately 
watching while a score of wine casks, full of some 
poisonous liquid which he had hoped an African sun 
would sell for him, was hoisted on board ; another 
had with him a troop of performing dogs ; a third 
was conducting a troop of singing and dancing girls, 
whose rouged cheeks and tawdry finery looked mel- 
ancholy enough in the merciless light. The exiles 
were not by any means silent ; they cursed and quar- 
relled in a perfect Babel of languages ; but they did 
not dare to linger. A cordon of soldiers kept them 
rigidly within the boundaries of the place of em- 
barkation. Vessel after vessel took on board its 
cargo with a marvellous regularity and speed. Be- 
fore evening the camp had been brought back to a 
primitive severity and simplicity which were worthy 
of the best times of the Republic. 

In the matter of the exchange Maharbal found 
10 


146 


LORDS OF THE WORLD 


tlie Roman general liberal to the point of generosity. 
He was not careful to exact a very close correspon- 
dence in the dignity or the number of the prisoners 
to be given up and received. When every Roman 
had been accounted for, a considerable balance of 
Carthaginians still remained in Scipio’s hands. The 
envoy offered to redeem them at the price which 
had been customary in former wars, two pounds and 
a half of silver per man. Scipio smilingly refused 
to receive it. “ Your Hannibal,” he said, “used to 
empty our treasury, for it was seldom but he had 
more prisoners to give than to receive. You must 
let me have the satisfaction of feeling that for once 
I am able to be generous .’ 5 

It was easy to transact business on such terms. 
When all was settled the general invited the Car- 
thaginian and his interpreter, whom he had greeted 
in a most friendly fashion, to share his evening 
meal. He had thoughtfully arranged that the two 
young officers who were his aides-de-camp , and as 
such were commonly guests at his table, should not 
be present. He felt that their company would not 
be agreeable to Maharbal and still less to the young 
Greek. The only other guest was a person whom 
Cleanor especially was delighted to meet. This was 
the historian Polybius, who had already acquired a 
considerable reputation as a soldier, a statesman, 
and a man of letters. Cleanor, during his sojourn at 


IN THE ROMAN CAMP 


147 


Athens, had heard his character as a politician hotly 
debated ; that he was an honest man no one doubted. 
Personally he was prejudiced against him as a par- 
tisan of Rome. But he found it impossible to resist 
the charm of his conversation. 

The hours passed only too quickly in such delight- 
ful company, and when the time came to separate, 
Cleanor felt that he had not said a tenth part of 
what he wanted to say to his new acquaintance. 
As they were making their farewells, Polybius, who 
had heard from Scipio an outline of the young 
Greek’s story, found an opportunity of saying a 
few kindly words. 

“I could wish,” he whispered, with a friendly 
pressure of the hand, “ that things were otherwise 
with you. Mind, I don’t blame you, or doubt but 
that you are quite loyal to conscience in what you 
do. But, believe me, you are on the wrong side. 
Is there anyone in Carthage whom you can compare 
in anything that makes the worth of a man with 
our noble Scipio ? I know something of what you 
feel, though I have not the same cause, for I also am 
a Greek and have lost my country ; but the gods 
give the sovereignty to whom they will, and who 
are we to light against them? Farewell for the 
present ! but I am sure that we shall meet again, 
and under happier circumstances.” 


148 


LORDS OF THE WORLD 


“I thank you for saying so,” replied Cleanor ; 
“but the future looks very dark to me.” 

And, indeed, as he made his way back to the 
city, listening with but half his mind to Maharbal’s 
enthusiastic praises of the courtesy and liberality of 
the Roman commander, he felt his spirits sink into 
a deeper depression than he had ever known before. 


CHAPTER XIV 

THE MEGARA 

C OURTEOUS, and even generous, as Scipio had 
showed himself in the matter of the exchange 
of prisoners, he was not a man to let slip a single 
advantage that might fall into his hands, or, when 
he delivered a blow, to hesitate to strike with all 
his force. He allowed a short time for his army to 
get used to the new condition of things. This he 
could well afford, for the season was yet early. 
When he found his army restored to a sound con- 
dition, physical and moral, at once hardened to 
labour and amenable to discipline, in a word, thor- 
oughly efficient, he proceeded to act. It was as a 
keen, well-tempered sword in his hands, and he 
struck with promptitude and energy. 


THE MEGARA 


149 


His first plan was to follow the line of attack 
which Mancinus had initiated. The weak spot in 
the defences of a wealthy city is commonly found 
in the buildings which are allowed to grow up in 
times of peace outside the fortifications. Life in a 
walled city is often both irksome and unhealthy. 
The poor, always compelled to put up with a nar- 
row space whether within walls or without them, are 
indifferent, but the rich man wants his garden and 
his playground, wants room for the health of his 
family or his own entertainment. In this way a 
suburb, mainly consisting of residences of the 
wealthy, had grown up outside the northern walls 
of the city. It presented, only on a larger scale, 
much the same features as the locality which Man- 
cinus had fixed upon as his point of attack. But it 
had a fortified wall of its own. This had in process 
of time become a necessity. For more than four 
centuries after its foundation Carthage had never 
seen a foreign invader on its soil. But there came 
a time when its enemies discovered that it might 
be most effectually attacked at home. Therefore, 
splendid houses which offered a rich prize to the 
plunderer could no longer be left without a defence, 
and the Megara had to be surrounded with a forti- 
fication, which started from the city wall and joined 
it again. But the space which had to be inclosed 
was great, and the new wall was neither so strong, 


150 


LORDS OF THE WORLD 


so well furnished with towers, nor so adequately 
garrisoned as the old. It was meant, in fact, rather 
for a protection against a sudden attack than as a 
permanent defence. 

Scipio resolved on a night assault, an operation 
possible only to a thoroughly well-disciplined army. 
He divided his force into two columns, taking per- 
sonal command of the one which was actually to 
attack. The other was to make a demonstration, 
which was not to be developed into an assault ex- 
cept the officer at its head saw a particularly favour- 
able opportunity. As the two points threatened 
were more than a couple of miles apart — so great 
was the circuit of the Megara wall — the attention of 
the garrison was effectually distracted. Scipio’ s 
column succeeded in reaching its destination unob- 
served, and its sudden approach, coupled with the 
alarm simultaneously raised on the other side, threw 
the garrison into confusion. 

But the assault received a check. A deserter had 
indicated the spot where the wall might be most 
easily scaled. It had been used as a short cut by 
marauders, stragglers, and others who did not care 
to go in or out by the gate. Some stones had been 
broken down at the top of the wall, while at the 
bottom there was a natural rise in the ground which 
diminished the height. But the place had not es- 
caped the vigilance of the officer whose business it 


THE MEGARA 


151 


was to inspect this portion of the fortification. The 
stones had been replaced and the rise in the ground 
levelled. A determined attempt was then made at 
various points with the scaling-ladders. But an 
assailant who is mounting a ladder is at a consider- 
able disadvantage when matched with an antago- 
nist who has a firm footing on the wall above. Here 
and there, indeed, especially where a bit of the wall 
lay in shadow, the ladder could be applied and the 
wall scaled unobserved by the guard. But these suc- 
cesses could not be followed up. The soldiers who 
thus made good their footing on the top were few 
and far between ; unable to help each other, they 
could not hold the ground that they had won. The 
only decided advantage obtained in this direction 
was the capture of one of the small towers disposed 
at intervals along the wall. This tower had been 
deserted by its guard, who had hurried to repel a 
scaling-party, and was occupied by the Romans in 
their absence. 

Scipio saw that he was losing men to no purpose, 
and ordered the retreat to be sounded. But his 
quick eye had detected a place which seemed to 
promise better. Some resident in Megara had felt 
the same impatience of being kept within walls to 
which the whole suburb itself owed its first exist- 
ence, and had built, in a spot which commanded a 
wide view over the sea, one of those towers which 


152 


LORDS OF THE WORLD 


we now commonly call “follies.” The place was 
of course deserted when the war broke out, but it 
was not destroyed, as it ought to have been, for it 
was dangerously near the wall. So near, indeed, 
was it that it was quite possible to throw a bridge 
across the intervening space ; fortunately, too, it 
was not very far from the tower mentioned above 
as having been occupied by the assailants. A con- 
siderable force of archers and slingers was brought 
up to the spot, and they kept up so vigorous a dis- 
charge of missiles that this portion of the wall, some 
fifty paces or so in length, was absolutely cleared 
of its defenders. Two scaling-ladders, hastily lashed 
together, served sufficiently well for a bridge. Across 
this two or three scores of active young soldiers, 
picked out for their courage and strength, made 
their way in rapid succession, and descending from 
the wall on the inner side, hastened to open one of 
the gates. Before an hour had passed, Scipio, with 
nearly four thousand men, was within the walls of 
the Megara. 

For a time the panic was as great as if Carthage 
itself, and not a suburb, which never could have 
been seriously defended, had been taken. The 
garrison of the Megara fled in wild confusion to 
the inner city, the gates of which were blocked 
with a crowd of frantic fugitives. Cleanor, who 
had joined the flying division as a volunteer, found 


THE MEGARA 153 

himself carried back towards the city walls by a 
quite irresistible torrent of panic-stricken men. 

Then a rally took place. In the first place the 
fugitives were compelled to halt, if for no other 
reason than because they could not get through the 
gates. Then the old instinct of obedience and dis- 
cipline reasserted itself, especially in the merce- 
naries, among whom the panic had been most severe. 
Little by little the officers were able to restore some 
kind of order, and even to recover some of the lost 
ground. The defenders had the inestimable ad- 
vantage of knowing the locality. To the merce- 
naries, indeed, most of whom had never been inside 
Carthage, the place was as strange as it was to the 
Romans ; but the flying division consisted entirely 
of native troops, and these were thoroughly at 
home among the lanes and alleys of the Megara, 
where indeed most of them had their family resi- 
dences. 

Cleanor had an hour or so of very lively advent- 
ure in the company of an officer of the division, 
and could not help feeling a certain regret when he 
heard the Roman bugles sound the recall. Scipio, 
in truth, had found that his position was not by 
any means desirable. The Megara was almost 
covered with detached houses, each surrounded by 
its gardens and orchards, these again being inter- 
sected by running streams, some of which were of 


154 : 


LORDS OF THE WORLD 


considerable depth, and had branches winding in 
all directions. Any adequate military occupation 
of such a region would require a much larger force 
than he had at hand, and would serve no useful 
purpose. And he could not quite trust his men. 
They had accepted his reforms with wonderful 
docility, but here they were in the presence of 
almost overpowering temptations. Many of the 
houses in the Megara were full of the accumulated 
wealth of centuries. A few minutes among such 
possessions would enrich a soldier with more than 
he could hope to acquire in twenty campaigns. In 
fact, it was only too probable that the men would 
take to plundering, and quite certain that, if they 
did, they would be destroyed in detail. There were 
abundant reasons, therefore, why the Roman gen- 
eral should order a retreat. Even as it was, his 
losses were not inconsiderable. 

“ I wonder whether anyone has been paying a 
visit here?” said Cleanor’s companion to him as 
they approached one of the houses in the Megara. 
“This is my father’s place.” 

It should be explained that the non-combatant 
population had fled from the Megara as soon as it 
was attacked, Even before that many persons had 
deserted their houses for safer quarters within the 
city itself. 

“It is a very likely place,” the Carthaginian con- 


THE MEGARA 


155 


tinued, “for a man to lose his way in. Perhaps 
we may lay our hands on a prize. Come this way ; 
I know the best place for waiting.’’ 

The two young men, taking a couple of soldiers 
with them, made their way down a narrow lane 
which skirted the garden of the house. The moon 
had set by this time, but there was a dim light of 
dawn. After a few minutes of waiting, the party 
could plainly hear that someone was approaching. 

“There must be two men at least,” whispered the 
Carthaginian ; “ and they have missed the path, for 
they are crashing through the shrubs. By Dagon ! 
we have them, for there is a bit of deep water that 
they must get over. Let us come a little further 
on. Mago, you know the hand-bridge ; go as quick 
as you can and secure it.” 

He had scarcely finished speaking when the party 
for which they were watching came in sight. It 
consisted of three persons, and there was now 
enough light to distinguish them. One was a Ro- 
man officer. He wore the ornaments of a tribune, 
and might have been some twenty years of age . 1 
His two companions were private soldiers, and light- 
armed. The three, forcing their way through the 
shrubbery, which here was particularly dense, came 

i Scipio was a tribune at this age. Young men of good birth were ap- 
pointed to the office without previous service. Soldiers of lower origin who 
distinguished themselves were promoted to it, but, of course, at a later age 
The great Marius was not a tribune till he was between thirty and forty. 


156 


LORDS OF THE WORLD 


upon the water. It was evidently an entirely un- 
expected obstacle. 

“ Caius,” said the officer, addressing one of the 
men, “how is this to be managed? ” 

“We can jump it,” the man answered, “with the 
help of our spears. When we are on the further 
side, you, sir, must do the best you can, and we 
will help you out.” 

“ Very good,” said the officer ; “jump ! ” 

“Let them go,” whispered the Carthaginian to 
Cleanor, “we don’t want them; but the officer will 
be a prize worth having.” 

Each of the two soldiers planted his spear in the 
bed of the stream, and swung himself across with- 
out much difficulty. The tribune, having first 
thrown his sword to the other side, jumped his fur- 
thest. No run was possible, for the shrubs were 
thick on the bank ; still it was a good leap — excel- 
lent, indeed, considering the weight of the young 
Roman’s armour. The breadth of the water was 
about twenty-four feet, and the tribune had cleared 
eighteen. His companions were in the act of reach- 
ing out one of their spears for him to grasp when 
the Carthaginian and his party showed themselves. 
The young Roman understood the situation in a 
moment. 

“ Save yourselves,” he gasped, as soon as he 
could speak, “ I am lost ! ” 



“DO YOU’ YIELD?” SAID CLEANOR WHEN THE ROMAN HAD 

REACHED THE SHORE 

























































































X 

































































. 























































































THE MEGARA 


157 


After a moment’s hesitation the men obeyed. To 
stay would have been a useless sacrifice, for they 
must have been inevitably cut down while they 
were attempting to save their companion. 

“ Speak to him,” said the Carthaginian. “Try 
him with Greek ; the Roman gentlemen mostly 
know it. But perhaps we had better help him out 
of the water first.” 

“Do you yield?” said Cleanor in Greek, when 
the Roman had reached the shore. 

“I see no choice,” replied the young man in the 
same language. 

Giving his promise that he would not attempt to 
escape, he received his sword, and accompanied his 
captors to the city. A few inquiries, made and 
answered in Greek, satisfied them that they had in- 
deed, as the Carthaginian had anticipated, secured 
a prize. The tribune was a Scipio, a kinsman not 
very distantly related to the commander. 

“Let him be your prisoner,” said Cleanor’s com- 
panion to him. “He may bring you promotion, 
which I am pretty sure of in any case. Though, in- 
deed,” he added after a pause, “I strongly suspect 
that it will be all the same for most of us, promo- 
tion or no promotion, a year hence.” 


158 


LORDS OF THE WORLD 


CHAPTER XV 

THE PRISONERS 

T HE Roman became so unwell, from the shock of 
his sudden immersion following on a night of 
unusual exertion, that Cleanor found it necessary 
to take him to his quarters. They were sitting to- 
gether at the morning meal a few hours later, when 
Cleanor’ s soldier-servant announced that someone 
had called to see him on urgent business. It was 
the Carthaginian officer in whose company he had 
been during the adventures of the night preceding. 

“What about the young Roman?” asked the 
new-comer, who seemed to be in a state of great 
agitation. “ Did you give him up at head-quarters, 
or did you bring him here by accident? ” 

“He is here,” replied Cleanor. “He seemed so 
weak that I thought it best to bring him home with 
me.” 

“That is well,” said the Carthaginian, “though 
really I can hardly say whether it is well. Do you 
know what has happened ? ” 

“I have heard nothing. My chief has released 
me from duty for four-and-twenty hours, and I 
have taken the chance of getting a good long 
sleep.” 


THE PRISONERS 


159 


“Well, there have been most horrible doings. 
Hasdrubal was in a towering rage this morning 
when he heard what had been going on in the Meg- 
ara. The fact is” — the speaker lowered his voice to 
a whisper — “ that, between you and me, he was too 
tipsy last night to appear. I am told that they 
could not make him understand anything. That 
did not make him more amiable this morning. 
Then he has been blamed for letting the Megara re- 
main as it is, and especially for the tower, which 
certainly ought not to have been allowed to stand. 
And lastly, there has been more talk of capitula- 
tion during the last few days. People were very 
much struck with Scipio’s liberality in the matter 
of the prisoners, and have begun to think that bet- 
ter terms might be got from him. Well, all these 
things have been working him up to a great pitch 
of fury. So this morning he had all the prisoners 
that were taken in last night’s business, some three- 
score altogether, brought down to the wall at the 
point nearest to the Roman camp, and there he 
tortured them to death in the cruellest way. We 
Carthaginians are not so squeamish as you Greeks ; 
but I tell you that I felt fairly sick at what I saw, 
and I did not see a half or even a quarter of the 
horrors that took place. Some had their eyes or 
their tongues torn out, some were flayed alive ; 
and when he had done with them, he had them 


160 


LORDS OF THE WORLD 


flung down from the wall. ‘Tell your general,’ he 
shouted out, when the last of the poor wretches was 
tossed down, ‘ tell your general that I sha’n’t charge 
him more than one copper coin apiece for them.’ ” 

“But this is mere madness,” cried Clean or. 
“What can he have been thinking of ? What was 
his motive ?” 

“That is easily explained,” replied the Cartha- 
ginian. “ When it was all over he turned to one of 
the senators, who is supposed to favour peace — he 
had compelled the man to come with him — and 
said: ‘We have heard the last of capitulation, I 
fancy, for some time. What terms do you think 
your dear Scipio will be disposed to give you after 
this?’ And now about your prisoner. I have 
come straight to warn you. We must think what 
is to be done. One thing, of course, is certain — you 
can’t keep him here. Some bird of the air would 
carry the matter. Hasdrubal, too, has his spies 
everywhere, and knows everything, and you would 
hardly like to give him up. He seemed a nice 
young fellow.” 

“Give him up ! ” cried Cleanor — “certainly not. 
I should deserve to be crucified myself if I did ! ” 

“You might tell him what has happened, and put 
him in the way of taking the matter into his own 
hands. The Homans seem never to trouble much 
about killing themselves.” 


THE PRISONERS 


161 


“That seems but a mean way of getting ont of 
the difficulty. The man is my guest. I have eaten 
and drunk with him. He sha’n’t be harmed, if I 
can help it. I don’t love the Romans, but I could 
not behave so to the very worst of them, and least 
of all to a Scipio.” 

“ But you’ll get into very serious trouble your- 
self.” 

“Well, trouble or no trouble, I am determined to 
save him somehow. Meanwhile, many thanks to 
you for warning me. But there’s no good in your 
mixing yourself up in the matter.” 

“Good! but mind this, the sooner he is out of 
the way the better for him, if not for you. Fare- 
well.” 

“ Well ! ” said the young Roman, when his cap- 
tor returned, “ this is a very pleasant way of being 
a prisoner, but I suppose it can’t last. You must 
do your duty ; pray, don’t get yourself into trouble 
on my account.” 

Cleanor was in a state of extreme perplexity. 
To hand over a gallant young soldier to a merciless 
savage such as Hasdrubal was impossible. Yet it 
seemed scarcely dutiful to Carthage to let a valu- 
able prisoner escape ; and, again, if he could make 
up his mind to this, how was such an escape to be 
managed ? 

“Doing my duty” he said, after a few minutes 


162 


LORDS OF THE WORLD 


of silent reflection, “ happens to be more than usu- 
ally difficult.” 

After another pause he went on, “ After all, there 
is nothing for it but to tell you the simple truth. 
Hasdrubal has put all the prisoners to death, and 
to a horribly cruel death.” 

The prisoner grew pale. He was young, and life 
was dear to him. As a Roman, too, he knew the 
hideous traditions of Carthaginian cruelty. In a 
few moments he had recovered himself and his 
voice was firm. 

“I can bear,” he said, “what my countrymen 
have borne. Or, if you would make me feel that I 
have been more fortunate than they, give me back 
my sword for a moment.” 

“ Hasdrubal’s deed is a crime,” replied the young 
Greek, “and I will not make myself an accomplice 
in it. Your sword I will certainly give you if I can 
see no other way.” 

Again he reflected, then his face lighted up. He 
had thought of a way of escape out of part at least 
of his difficulty. 

“There is another way, and I will ask you to fol- 
low it without any questioning. I will certainly 
not give you up to Hasdrubal, nor will I suffer you 
to give up your life for mine. Your sacrifice, too, 
would be useless. Hasdrubal will say, if he should 
come to know about you, that he wanted you alive, 


THE PRISONERS 


163 


not dead, and will be as furious with me for letting 
you kill yourself as for letting you escape. So put 
that thought out of your mind. Now about escape ; 
I have had half a hundred plans in my mind during 
the last half-hour, but the best, I might say the 
only one, seems to be this. All Carthage is hard at 
work on some ramparts of earth that are being 
made in the rear of the south wall, just where the 
ground dips a little. Men of all ranks are working 
at them, and even women and children. All are 
volunteers, no wages are given, and no questions 
are asked. You can’t miss the place, for there is a 
steady stream of people going backwards and for- 
wards to it. Most of the men wear a rough sort of 
workman’s tunic. I can give you one, and I can 
furnish you with a spade. Work on there till it is 
dark. No one will think it strange, for people who 
are employed in the day often give two or three 
hours to work at the ramparts in the night. Then 
you must take your chance. Bide your time, and 
drop quietly down from the wall. One thing re- 
member : don’t on any account open your mouth. 
If anyone speaks to you, pretend to be dumb or 
that you don’t understand. And there is one thing 
more which I ask, not because I think it necessary, 
but because I shall be able to answer for you bet- 
ter : swear by the oath that in your country you 
think most binding, that you will give to the be- 


164 


LORDS OF THE WORLD 


siegers no information as to what yon have seen in 
the city.” 

The young man swore by Jupiter and the house- 
hold gods of his own family that he would be abso- 
lutely silent on all that he had seen or heard. 
Shortly afterwards, equipped as Cleanor had de- 
scribed, he took his way to the earthworks. It is 
needless to say anything more than that, after 
nightfall, he easily made his escape. 

When the day came to an end without any in- 
quiry being made for the prisoner, Cleanor began 
to hope that the whole affair might escape notice. 
Just before midnight, however, he received a visit 
from his Carthaginian friend. “ I have only a few 
moments,” said the young man. “First, as to the 
prisoner — what have you done with him ? where is 
he?” 

“In the Roman camp by this time, I hope,” re- 
plied Cleanor ; and proceeded briefly to describe 
what he had done. 

“Well,” said the other, “as nothing has been 
seen or heard of him, he has probably made his es- 
cape ; and a very lucky thing for him ! But now 
about yourself. Hasdrubal knows, or will know 
to-morrow morning. One of the soldiers who was 
with us gave information. I will be even with him 
some day, the mercenary scoundrel ! Happily, the 
chief was too tipsy to understand what was being 


THE PRISONERS 


165 


told him. But lie will be sober to-morrow morning, 
and then look out for yourself. But what do you 
mean to do?” 

“Do?” replied Cleanor, “nothing, except tell 
him the truth.” 

“Well, you don’t want for courage. But re- 
member, he is the most merciless brute on earth. 
Don’t flatter yourself that you will find him any- 
thing else.” 

“I have made up my mind. Let him do his 
worst. But a thousand thanks to you ! ” 

“ I wish we had a thousand men such as he in 
Carthage,” muttered the young officer to himself as 
he went away — “ as gentle as he is brave, where- 
as our people’s fancy is to be cruel and cowardly.” 

Early on the following morning an orderly made 
his appearance at Cleanor’s quarters. “The gen- 
eral understands,” he said, “ that you have a pris- 
oner in your hands. You are to deliver him up.” 

Cleanor did not feel himself bound to make any 
explanation to an orderly, and simply replied that 
he had no prisoner in his hands. 

“Then,” said the man, “I am instructed to 
search your quarters.” 

“ Search, but you will find nothing.” 

The man searched and went away. An hour or 
so afterwards he reappeared, this time with a guard 
of four soldiers. He had instructions, he said, to 


166 


LORDS OF THE WORLD 


arrest Cleanor, son of Lysis, an officer of the guards 
of the south-west wall. 

Cleanor surrendered himself without a word, and 
was at onco marched to head-quarters. On his 
arrival he was handcuffed. Hasd rubai, who had 
never possessed much personal courage, was accus- 
tomed to take this precaution when any prisoner 
was brought into his presence. 

“ I have it on good authority,” said the general, 
when Cleanor stood before him, “ that you had a 
Roman prisoner in your hands on the night of the 
day before last. Why did you not deliver him up 
at once to the proper authorities ? ” 

“ Because he was ill. If this was irregular, I ac- 
knowledge my fault.” 

“Let that pass, then. Where is he now? How 
was it you suffered him to escape ?” 

“I did not suffer him to escape ; I took care that 
he should escape.” 

“ What ! ” cried the general in a furious voice — 
so far he had succeeded in keeping calm — “ what ! 
you deliberately let him go ! This is sheer treason ! 
What have you to say ? ” 

U I could not let him be dealt with as the others 
were dealt with. To have given him up after that 
would have been a crime.” 

“What audacity! Who are you, paltry Greek 
that you are, to make yourself a ruler and a judge 


THE PRISONERS 


167 


in Carthage ? That is enough. It is your life for 
his life. Take him away ! ” he roared to the guards 
who had the prisoner in their charge. 

Cleanor was taken back to the guard-room, and 
shortly afterwards transferred from that to a cell 
in the basement of the house, a squalid, stifling, ill- 
smelling place, dimly lighted by a strongly barred 
aperture in the roof. Here he spent five days. 
Every morning his jailer opened the door just long 
enough to put within it a loaf of coarse rye-bread 
and a flagon of doubtful-looking water. He saw 
and heard nothing more during the day. 

On the sixth day he was again brought before 
Hasdrubal. The general was, or seemed to be, in a 
different mood. He affected to be much disturbed 
at the prisoner’s squalid appearance, inquired how 
he had been treated, and when he heard the details 
declared that his orders had been entirely misunder- 
stood. Cleanor knew exactly how much value was 
to be attached to these protestations, but prudently 
kept his counsel and thanked the general for his 
kind intentions. 

“I have been wishing,” Hasdrubal continued, 
“ to have some conversation about a matter in 
which you might be very useful to Carthage, but 
you are really not fit for it. Let me at all events 
do what I can to repair this deplorable mistake.” 

He whispered some instructions to an attendant, 


168 


LORDS OF THE WORLD 


and Cleanor was ushered out of the room, being 
treated with a politeness which was in strong con- 
trast to the rude handling which he had received on 
the former occasion. He was provided with a bath 
and a change of clothes, and afterwards sat down to 
an excellent meal. 

Later on in the day he was again summoned into 
the general’s presence. “ I cannot but think,” said 
Hasdrubal, “ that you were wrong in the matter of 
the prisoner, but you meant well ; yes, you meant 
well, and it may turn out for the best after all. 
The prisoner who escaped was a Scipio, was he 
not 2” 

“ Yes,” replied the Greek, “ he was a Scipio.” 

“ The Scipios will feel that they owe you some- 
thing for what you have done. . . . Does not 
that seem to give you an opening? ” 

“I don’t understand,” replied Cleanor, though 
he had little doubt, as a matter of fact, -what it was 
that the general wanted. 

“There are some things,” continued Hasdrubal 
after a pause, “ which I should much like to know, 
and I would gladly give ten talents to the man who 
would find them out for me.” 

“To put it plainly,” said Cleanor, “you want me 
to go as a spy?” 

“Well,” replied Hasdrubal, “if you choose to 
put it so — yes.” 


THE PRISONERS 


169 


“ I cannot do it,” said Cleanor. 

“I know that it is a dangerous bit of work; a 
spy gets no mercy. But then, think — I won’t say, 
of the reward, for I believe that you think little of 
that — think of the service you may be doing to Car- 
thage.” 

“It isn’t that I refuse to be a spy. A spy’s work, 
I take it, is as lawful and honest as any other. But 
I am not going to trade on what I did for that 
young man. That would be base.” 

Hasdrubal checked himself with some difficulty. 
He could see that the young Greek was not one to 
be bullied into compliance ; but he did not give up 
the hope of persuading him. 

“Well, well,” he said after a pause, “we must 
talk of this again. Perhaps we may find some way 
for you to help us without offending your con- 
science. Farewell for the present ; and believe me 
that I am deeply concerned that you should have 
been put to inconvenience. It shall not happen 
again.” 

Cleanor found his quarters and his fare changed 
very much for the better. He had now an airy little 
chamber high up in the house, which commanded a 
view of the sea. He received a visit from the gen- 
eral’s own physician, a countryman of his own, 
who claimed to be one of the great iEsculapid clan. 

“ A little reduced,” said the man of science, afte/ 


170 


LORDS OF THE WORLD 


feeling his pulse and listening to the beats of his 
heart — “a little reduced, but that is not to be won- 
dered at. I shall not have to exhibit any drug ; a 
generous diet will do all that is wanted. And the 
general gives you the use of his own private terrace, 
so that you will not want for fresh air and exer- 
cise.” 

Time now passed pleasantly enough with the 
young man, though it was irksome to be shut 
up in idleness while so much was going on. And 
there was always the anxiety as to what Hasdrubal 
would do. The tiger was pleased for the time to 
sheath his claws, but the claws were there, and 
would be shown some day. Meanwhile he made 
the best of his position. The physician paid him a 
daily visit, told him the news of the siege, chatted 
with him on various subjects, played sundry games 
of draughts or soldiers , 1 and, best of all, lent him 
some books. 

More than once he was summoned to an interview 
with the general, who, however, did not again in- 
troduce the subject of the last meeting, but was 
always very communicative and friendly, flattering 
the young man by referring to him sundry military 
questions, and asking his advice. At the end of a 
fortnight he was unconditionally released, not a 


1 The Latin latrunculi , a game somewhat resembling our ‘ 1 military tac- 
tics,” or “ fox and geese.” 


THE PRISONERS 


171 


little to his surprise. And his release was followed 
by reappointment to his old command. 

He was not long left in ignorance of the causes 
which had brought about this unexpected result. 
The fact was that pressure, which he did not feel 
able to resist, had been brought to bear upon Has- 
drubal. Tyrant and savage as he was, he stood in 
fear of his soldiers, and could not afford to neglect 
any strong feeling that they might show. The 
Greek contingent among the mercenaries was nu- 
merous, and constituted the most effective part of 
the force. With many of these men Cleanor was a 
personal favourite ; most of them knew him by re- 
pute, and had heard with sympathy his melancholy 
story. Among the native Carthaginians also he 
had not a few well-wishers. Hasdrubal, accord- 
ingly, was made to understand that if anything 
should happen to the young man, it would be 
strongly resented. His superior officer gave him an 
outline of these facts, but added, with significant 
emphasis : 

“ Be on your guard with him, though that is 
easier to say than to do. He does not forget or 
forgive.” 


172 


LORDS OF THE WORLD 


CHAPTER XVI 

BAAL HAMMON 

F OR some time after the events related in the last 
chapter the siege went on without any notice- 
able incidents. The fighting was nearly continuous, 
but there was nothing like a pitched battle. The 
besiegers did not again attempt an assault, nor did 
the besieged make a sally in force. Scipio’s plan 
was to complete the blockade of the city, and then 
to await events, reserving his attack till famine and 
disease had exhausted the strength of the enemy. 

The first step was to cut off all communication on 
the land side. Carthage stood on a peninsula, and 
Scipio’s superiority in the field made him master of 
the isthmus by which this peninsula was joined to 
the mainland. This he covered from sea to sea by a 
huge fortification, which served at the same time 
for a camp. It had a ditch and a rampart both on 
the side that looked towards the city, from which it 
was distant little more than a bow-shot, and on that 
which faced the mainland. It was necessary, in- 
deed, that it should be defensible both in the front 
and in the rear. It was one of the most formidable 
possibilities of the war that the Roman army might 
be attacked from behind by the native allies of Car- 


BAAL HAMMON 


173 


tliage. Scipio knew — it was a mark of his genius 
that he knew every thing — that the emissaries of the 
city were unceasing in their efforts to raise an army 
of auxiliaries among the native tribes of Northern 
Africa. The wall had, as usual, towers at intervals 
over its whole length. One of these towers, built in 
the most solid fashion of stone, was carried up to 
such a height that it commanded a view of all that 
was being done within the city walls. 

Of course the besieged did not allow this work, 
threatening as it was to the very existence of their 
city, to be carried on without interruption. Cata- 
pults, posted on the city walls, kept up a continu- 
ous discharge of missiles ; unceasing showers of 
stones came from the arches and slingers, while 
bodies of infantry were kept in readiness to sally 
forth whenever and wherever they saw an oppor- 
tunity of doing damage. The Romans had, so to 
speak, to build and dig with a workman’s tool in 
the one hand and a weapon in the other, but they 
stuck to their task with indefatigable zeal and in- 
exhaustible courage. The officers shared all the 
toils and dangers of their men, and the work pro- 
gressed, not indeed without loss, but without inter- 
ruption. 

Meanwhile the city was in a state of constantly 
increasing excitement from another cause, not un- 
connected, however, with the war. The festival of 


174 


LORDS OF THE WORLD 


Baal Hammon — otherwise Moloch— was approach- 
ing, and it was to be kept with unusual splendour, 
even, it was said, with rites of worship that had 
fallen into disuse for many years. For Carthage, 
though it had much of the unchanging temper of 
the East, was not wholly untouched by the spirit of 
progress, and some of the darker and more savage 
practices of her religion were no longer practised. 
But now again the fiercer instincts of the race were 
waking. It was a common topic of talk in the 
streets that the desperate fortunes of the state 
called for more effectual methods of propitiating 
the anger of heaven. Meetings of the Senate were 
held daily with closed doors, and it was known, 
though instant death was the appointed penalty of 
any indiscreet revelation by a senator, that the chief 
subject of debate was settling the details of the 
great Moloch feast. 

Cleanor, in common with the other Greeks in the 
population, whether civil or military, heard but lit- 
tle of the matter. It was, in a way, kept from them 
by their companions and comrades, who knew that 
they regarded such proceedings without sympathy, 
not to say with disgust. In the ordinary course 
the great day would have come and passed without 
his knowing anything about it beyond the fact that 
it was the chief festival of the Carthaginian year. 
But this was not to be. 


BAAL HAMMON 


175 


He was returning to his quarters somewhat late 
in the evening, two days before the appointed time, 
when he felt a hand laid on the sleeve of his tunic, 
and heard himself called by his name in a voice 
which somehow seemed familiar, though he could 
not immediately connect it with any friend or ac- 
quaintance. He halted, and turned to the speaker. 

It was a woman, poorly clad as far as he could 
see in the dim light, and of middle age, to judge 
from what appeared of her veiled and cloaked fig- 
ure. 

“ Help, noble Cleanor ! ” 

That strange faculty of remembering voices that 
most of us have, strange because it is a sheer effort 
of memory, unlielped by any accessories of shape 
and colour, did not fail him. 

“ What ! is it you, Theoxena?” he cried. 

Theoxena was his foster-mother, the wife of a 
poor schoolmaster at Chelys, who had been per- 
suaded by her own need and the liberal offers of 
Cleanor’s father to undertake the nurture of one of 
his twin-children. She had been resident for some 
years at Carthage, to which city her husband had 
migrated, tempted by the prospect of more liberal 
remuneration than he could hope for in his native 
place. 

“Yes, sir, it is I,” said the poor woman in a voice 
broken with tears. “ And oh, in such trouble ! If 


176 


LORDS OF THE WORLD 


you could help me — but come in here. ’Tis but a 
poor place ; but I cannot tell you my story in the 
street.” 

Her home was close at hand, and Cleanor followed 
her in. A poor place it was, but clean and neatly 
kept, and even with some little marks of taste and 
culture. In one corner of the room stood a capsa, 
a cylindrical case for holding manuscript rolls, and 
above it, on a bracket fastened into the wall, a 
statuette of Hermes. The chairs were of elegant 
pattern, though of common wood, and the mats on 
the floor, though worn and shabby, were of artistic 
pattern. 

“ Well, Theoxena,” he said, “what is the matter? 
What can I do for you ? ” 

“Oh, sir ! ” she answered, commanding her voice 
with an effort, “they have stolen from me my little 
Ceplialus, the dearest, brightest little boy that ever 
was, and are going to offer him for a sacrifice to 
their dreadful Ha mm on.” 

“ But how do you know ? How did it happen ? ” 

“You shall hear the story from Daphne, who was 
with him when he was stolen.” 

“And who is Daphne ? ” asked Cleanor. 

Daphne, who had been sitting in a small chamber 
leading out of the main room, came forward on 
hearing her name, holding in her hands a piece of 
tapestry at which she had been working. She was 


BAAL HAMMON 


177 


a girl of fourteen or thereabouts, not actually beauti- 
ful, perhaps, but with a rare promise of beauty ; her 
figure had something of the awkwardness of the 
time which comes between childhood and woman- 
hood ; her features still wanted that subtle moulding 
which the last critical years of girlhood seem able to 
give. But her eyes, blue as a southern sea with a 
noonday sun above it, were marvellously clear and 
full of light ; her complexion was dazzlingly bright, 
and all the more striking from its contrast to the 
generally swarthy hue of the inhabitants of Car- 
thage. Her hair was of a rich red gold colour, and 
would have been of extraordinary beauty if it had 
had its natural length. As it was, it was cropped 
almost close, though here and there a little curl of 
a new growth had begun to show itself. 

“This, sir, is my Daphne,” said the woman, lay- 
ing her hand upon the girl’s head. “We are good 
patriots, I am sure, for the dear girl gave up her 
beautiful hair — if you will believe me, it used to 
come down nearly to her ankles — to be made into a 
string for a bow. The bow-maker said it was the 
very finest he had had, though all the great ladies 
in Carthage did the same, I am told. Daphne,” she 
went on, “ tell the noble Cleanor about our darling 
little Cephalus.” 

“Remember,” said the young man, who saw that 
the girl was trembling excessively, “remember that 
12 


178 


LORDS OF THE WORLD 


the noble Cleanor is your brother, even as Theoxena 
is his mother,” and he lifted his foster-mother’s hand 
to his lips and respectfully kissed it. 

The girl began her story : “I took my little 
brother to walk in the garden — the garden, I mean, 
of Mago the senator, who kindly lets us use it, be- 
cause the streets are so noisy and crowded, and the 
people are so rude.” Cleanor did not wonder that 
she attracted more notice than she liked. “ There is 
seldom anybody there ; but that day there was an 
old man who began to pet dear little Cephalus, and 
give him sweetmeats and cakes. He seemed very 
kind, and I never dreamt of any harm ; and besides, 
I was there, for I never leave Cephalus alone. Ah ! 
but I did leave him alone that morning, wicked girl 
that I am.” And she burst into a flood of tears. 
“But then what could I do? Hylax — that is the 
puppy that Cephalus is so fond of — began to fight 
with another dog, and Cephalus was frightened, and 
said, 4 He’ll be killed ! he’ll be killed ! Do save him, 
Daphne.’ He would himself have run to help, but 
I was afraid he would be bitten, though that would 
have been better than what did happen. So I told 
him to sit still where he was, and I ran to help 
Hylax. It took me a long time to get hold of him, 
for he was very angry, and would go on fighting 
though the other dog was much bigger. And 
when I looked round, the dear little boy was gone. I 


BAAL HAMMON 


179 


hunted all over the garden, and called him a hundred 
times, but it was no use. Mother hasn’t blamed me 
once, but I can’t help feeling that it was my fault.” 

“But what,” asked Cleanor, speaking to Theox- 
ena, “has put this dreadful idea of Hammon into 
your head % ” 

“Oh! I know from what my neighbours have told 
me that there is going to be a sacrifice such as there 
has not been for years and years, and that a number 
of children are to be put into the fire. The priests 
say that there must be a hundred, not one less. 
Some parents offered their own children — to think 
that anybody could be so wicked ! — and these quite 
rich and noble people, I am told ; but still there were 
not enough, so others had to be taken by force. Be- 
sides, the priests said that there must be children 
of every race that was in Carthage ; and no Greek 
children could be got except by kidnapping them. 
And there was something, too, which Daphne did 
not tell you. She picked up a button where the old 
man had been sitting, and I have been told by some- 
one who knows that it is of a kind that only the 
temple servants of Hammon use.” 

“ I see,” said Cleanor; “there seems very little 
doubt that it is so. But don’t trouble ; you shall 
have your son again. I have a hundred things to 
ask you, but that must be for another day ; there is 
no time to be lost now. Farewell ! ” 


180 


LORDS OF THE WORLD 


The young man had spoken confidently enough 
to the agonized mother, but when he came to reflect 
on what he had to do he did not feel by any means 
confident. All night he was busy with the problem, 
but seemed, when the morning came, as far off a 
solution as ever. He could not even think where 
to go for counsel and help. His Greek comrades 
would feel with him, but they probably knew no 
more about the matter than he did. As to his 
Carthaginian fellow-officers, though he was on the 
best of terms with them, it was quite useless, and 
indeed impossible, to approach them. At last an 
idea occurred to him. The Greek physician who 
had attended him when he was in Hasdrubal’s 
house might possibly be not only willing, but able 
to help him. Willing he would certainly be, for he 
was a Greek ; able, possibly, seeing that his prac- 
tice lay largely among Carthaginians of the highest 
class. 

He lost no time in looking for his friend, and was 
luckily soon successful in his search. 

“ I am not surprised,” said the physician when he 
had heard the story. “I knew that something of 
the kind was going on, though the priests keep it 
as quiet as they can. I was called in yesterday to 
see the wife of a senator. She was in a state of 
prostration, for which I could see no physical 
cause. Of course I diagnosed mental trouble, and 


BAAL IIAMMON 


181 


put some questions in that direction. I got nothing 
but the vaguest answers. Just when I was going 
away I asked some question about her children. 
She said nothing, but the next moment she fell into 
the very worst fit of hysterics I have ever seen. I put 
two and two together, for I haven’t been a doctor 
for forty years for nothing, and guessed the truth. 
And afterwards, when I was giving the maid in at- 
tendance some directions, I heard it for certain. 
The poor woman had given up her eldest boy, a 
beautiful little creature of six, to Moloch. And 
now about this Greek child. Well, we must not be 
seen on the street talking together. Come to my 
house about noon to-morrow, and we will talk it 
over.” 

Cleanor was punctual at the appointed time. 

“I have been thinking it over,” said the physi- 
cian when he had satisfied himself that he could 
not be overheard, “and I don’t see any chance of 
success except by bribery. I know where the child 
is — in the high-priest’s house. I was called in two 
or three days ago to see a child who was ill there. 
I thought it strange, for the priests have no fami- 
lies. Still, it might be a child of a relative. But 
it was stranger still when, after I had prescribed 
for the little fellow and was going away, I heard 
the voices of other children. Then it was all ex- 
plained by what I told you this morning. They 


182 


LORDS OF THE WORLD 


keep the poor little creatures, when they have got 
them by persuasion or force, in the high-priest’s 
house. That is one step, then. We know where 
the boy is. And the next, by great good luck, is 
made easy for us. The little fellow that I have 
been attending will certainly die. I feel almost 
sure that I shall not find him alive when I go this 
afternoon. Well, I shall have to report his death 
to the high-priest, who will have to find a sub- 
stitute for him, and will, I suppose, kidnap an- 
other child. That is a horrible thing ; but we can’t 
help it. Now for my plan. You must bribe the 
attendant who will have to remove the child and 
see to its burial. That will be easy enough. He is 
a fellow of the lowest class, and will do anything 
for a score of gold pieces. And you must also 
bribe the priest who has the business of actually 
offering the children. That will be a more serious 
matter. The practice is for the high-priest to offer 
the first, and to hand over the rest to a subordinate. 
This is the man you will have to deal with. It 
isn’t that it will be a matter of faith with him. 
Generally, in my experience — not always, mark 
that — but generally the nearer the altar the less the 
faith ; and this man I know. But it is a dangerous 
affair, and besides, the man can make his own 
terms. I should say that a hundred gold pieces 
will be wanted. Now, can you manage that? It 


BAAL HAMMON 


183 


isn’t every young officer that has a hundred gold 
pieces to spare. I can help you a little, but a phy- 
sician’s fees are small and hard to come by.” 

“ A thousand thanks ! ” said Cleanor, “but I have 
as much as will be wanted.” 

“ Come again after dark,” the physician went on. 
“You will have to settle with the men, for I must 
not appear in the matter, but I will arrange a way 
for you to see them.” 

“ Everything is going as well as possible,” said 
the physician when the two met again. “As I ex- 
pected, the child was dead. And here I have made 
a little change in our plans. I thought that it 
might make complications if two were engaged in 
the affair. And the priest might object if he found 
his secret shared by an attendant of far inferior 
rank. It might mean, he would say, endless black- 
mailing. What I did, then, was to tell the man 
that there was something very strange about the 
child’s illness, that I wanted to discover the real 
cause, and that I would give him a couple of gold 
pieces — to offer him more would have been suspi- 
cious — if he would let me have the body. That is 
disposed of, then. Now for the priest. He comes 
here to-night ; he has long been a patient of mine, 
and he wants to see me. The fellow, who is one of 
the hardest drinkers in Carthage, would have been 
dead long ago but for me. You will see him, and 


184 


LORDS OF THE WORLD 


tell him what he is to do, which, in a word, is to put 
a dead child for a living one, and what you will give 
him for doing it. That is the naked truth, but you 
will wrap it up as you think best.” 

“But will not that be an impossible thing — a 
dead child for a living ? ” asked Cleanor. 

“ Not at all,” replied the physician, “and not by 
any means so hard as you think. You don’t know, 
I daresay, that the children are drugged as heavily 
as possible without making them actually insensible. 
All the creatures that are bought to be sacrificed 
have to be drugged. You know that it is thought 
to be the very worst omen if a bull or a ram breaks 
away from the attendants as they are bringing it to 
the altar. You don’t suppose that there is a mira- 
cle perpetually worked so that what happens every 
day in the slaughter-house never happens in a tem- 
ple ? And this makes the affair comparatively easy. 
There is not much difference between a drugged 
child and a dead child.” 

The priest came in due course. The physician 
with some cautious hints excited his curiosity and 
greed, and Cleanor found his task neither so diffi- 
cult nor so costly as he had anticipated. It is need- 
less to relate the negotiations. As the physician 
had anticipated, the priest’s faith was not a diffi- 
culty. He had not a vestige of belief. He had been 
a partjr to too many impostures to have any thing of 


BAAL IIAMMON 


185 


the kind left. Fraudulent miracles were a part al- 
most, it might be said, of his daily business. But 
he made the most of the risk of the proceeding, and 
this was undoubtedly great. Not only was the dead 
child to be substituted for the living, but the living 
was to be smuggled away. The physician had pro- 
vided a temporary refuge for it ; it was to be re- 
ceived into the family of the couple which kept his 
house. The thing probably appeared to be more 
difficult than it really was, chiefly because no one 
would have any idea that it would be attempted. A 
bargain was ultimately made for a somewhat smaller 
sum than the physician had named. The priest was 
to receive five-and- twenty gold pieces down, and 
fifty pieces more when Cleanor was satisfied of the 
safety of the child. 

Cleanor was long in doubt whether or not he 
should be present at the hideous ceremony of the 
coming day. All the instincts of his own nature 
and his race revolted against such doings. The 
Greek temper was not particularly merciful, and 
certainly never shrank from taking life when occa- 
sions of policy or promptings of revenge seemed to 
suggest it, but it had no liking for spectacles of 
blood. Even in its degradation it revolted from the 
savage amusements which fascinated the Bomans. 
And Cleanor had the best feelings of his race in 
high development. On the other hand, he reflected 


186 


LORDS OF THE WORLD 


that if any chance suspicion should arise his pres- 
ence might help to disarm it. Above all, his inter- 
est in the fate of his little foster-brother was so over- 
powering that he felt it impossible to keep away. 

The solemnities of the day began with a great pro- 
cession in which the inferior deities of the Carthagin- 
ian faith were carried to pay their homage, as it was 
said, to Baal Hammon their chief. Each had his 
own company of priests and temple attendants ; 
both the deity and his satellites were decked out for 
the occasion with all the splendours which the tem- 
ple treasuries — most of them rich with the accumu- 
lation of centuries — could furnish. 

First — for it was right that the most dignified 
visitor should be the first to arrive — came Melcart, 
Hammon’ s vicegerent, as he might be called, who 
had under his special protection the daughter cities 
of the Phoenician race, as he had the great mother- 
city of Tyre. The god was not represented by any 
human figure, but a great sun, with gilded rays, was 
borne under a canopy of rich purple curtains. Next 
to Melcart came Tanit or Astarte, symbolized by a 
similar image of the moon, but smaller, and with 
silver rays ; and after Tanit again, Dagon, the fish- 
god, the special protector of the fleets of Carthage, 
held in less reverence since the eldest daughter of 
Tyre had lost the hereditary supremacy of the seas. 
These were the three great dignitaries of the proces- 


BAAL IIAMMON 


187 


sion ; after them followed a crowd of inferior powers 
with figures of man or brute, always heavy with 
gold or sparkling with gems, but grotesque or even 
hideous in shape, for the Phoenician craftsman 
made no effort to emulate the grace of his Greek 
rival. 

Hammon’s temple was thronged, and indeed had 
been thronged from the hour of dawn, when its 
gates were thrown open, with an excited multitude. 
A lane, however, was kept clear in the middle by 
two ranks of stalwart guards, native Carthaginians, 
all of them splendid in gilded helmets, with nodding 
plumes of the African ostrich, and armour of shining 
steel, with short purple cloaks over their shoulders. 
This lane was left for the approach of the divine 
visitors. As the first of these drew near, the great 
doors, themselves covered with a scarlet curtain, 
that separated the sanctuary from the body of the 
temple, were thrown back, and the holy place be- 
came visible, to most of those present that day for 
the first time in their lives. 

In the centre of a semicircular recess at the fur- 
ther end, on a throne of gold, approached by twelve 
steps, each flanked by the image of a lion, sat the 
colossal statue of Hammon. The canopy above it 
was formed by the meeting wings of two stooping 
figures. The image was made of some black stone, 
probably basalt, carved into a rude similitude of the 


188 


LORDS OF THE WORLD 


human figure, with arms of steel which extended 
forwards. In front, so close to the image as to be 
partly under the arms, was an opening six feet 
wide, from which, now and then, a slender tongue 
of coloured flame might be seen to shoot forth. 

When the opened doors revealed the image, an 
instantaneous silence fell upon the assembled multi- 
tude, in striking contrast to the babel of sounds 
which had filled the temple a minute before. The 
awful moment had come, and the multitude waited 
with mingled wonder and terror for what was to 
follow. 

The silence was first broken by the voice of the 
liigh-priest as he began to chant the litany of sup- 
plication. It was heard plainly enough, but few 
understood it, for the form had not been changed 
from the earliest times, and the language was mostly 
obsolete. At certain intervals the voices of the 
inferior priests might be heard coming in with the 
refrain. The ancient formula ended, the liigh-priest 
added special supplications for the day. He invoked 
blessings on Carthage, on her armies, her fleets, her 
priests, and her people. He cursed her enemies, 
Rome first of all, with special mention of the name 
of Scipio. The supplications ended, the high-priest 
turned to the people, crying, “ Sons of Carthage, 
offer with a willing heart, and of your best, to your 
Lord and Saviour Hammon ! ” 



“the high priest placed the sacrifice on the 

OUTSTRETCHED ARMS OF THE GOD ” 


V, ■ ■ - r 


. 

- 



























• 












BAAL HAMMON 


189 


There was a momentary pause. Then the Shoph- 
etim descended from the seats on which they had 
been sitting, and, coming forward, cast gold and 
spices into the opening. No one imitated, or was 
expected to imitate them. They represented the 
people, and their gifts symbolized the offering of 
the people’s wealth. The more solemn part of the 
sacrifice remained to be performed, and this part, 
for evident reasons, the priests retained in their 
own hands. 

The high -priest began again : 

“ O Baal Hammon, we have given thee the most 
precious of things without life ; now we give thee 
flesh of our flesh, and life of our life.” 

So saying, he took from the hands of a subordi- 
nate priest something — what it was no one could 
discern — wrapped in white linen, and placed it on 
the outstretched arms of the colossus. The image, 
worked by concealed machinery from behind, bowed 
its head, and at the same time lowered its arms, 
dropping the burden that had been placed upon 
them into the chasm underneath. Something be- 
tween a roar and a shriek went up from the multi- 
tude that filled the temple. There was the joy of 
seeing that the great Hammon accepted their offer- 
ing ; there was the horror — for even the Carthagin- 
ians were human — of knowing what the offering 
was. The next instant a loud crash of sound came 


190 


LOKDS OF THE WORLD 


from the cymbal-players, who had been stationed 
in a recess out of sight of the multitude. Every time 
another burden was placed on the arms and dropped 
into the chasm there was the same outburst of wild 
music. 

Cleanor watched the horrible ceremony with in- 
tense attention. Now and then he fancied— he had 
found a place, it should be said, not far from the 
sanctuary — that he saw a movement, and even 
heard a cry. But he could not feel certain. He 
recognized the priest who handed the first child to 
the high-priest, and who placed the others on the 
arms of the image, as the man with whom he had 
negotiated, and he felt sure that on one occasion he 
made a slight gesture, which no one else would 
notice, in his direction. It was a great relief when 
the horrible rite was finished. As to the fate of 
the child he could not immediately satisfy himself. 
It would have been imprudent to make any in- 
quiries. He had, however, the satisfaction of receiv- 
ing, during the course of the next day, a message 
from his friend the physician that the boy was safe. 
The same comforting intelligence was conveyed to 
the mother. She, of course, had to be content with 
an occasional sight of her child, and the hope of re- 
gaining him at some happier time. 


MOVE AND COUNTERMOVE 


191 


CHAPTER XYII 

MOVE AND COUNTERMOVE 

T HE great festival of Hammon, with all its lurid 
splendours, did not fail to produce something 
at least of the effect which the authorities had ex- 
pected from it. The flagging zeal of the Carthagin- 
ian people regained its old energy ; the hope that 
their country might yet be saved to them, a hope 
almost abandoned during the last few months, began 
to revive. Hammon, they thought, must be pro- 
pitiated by a piety so devoted, must interfere to 
save so dutiful a city. 

There was, indeed, need of all the encouragement 
that could be had, for the situation of the civil 
population of Carthage was precarious in the ex- 
treme. The Senate had not neglected to lay up in 
the time of peace such provisions for the war that 
they knew to be impending as it had been possible 
to collect. But the work had had to be done almost 
by stealth. Rome had watched with suspicion 
anything that looked like preparations for war, and 
had remonstrated more than once against the pur- 
chase of unnecessary stores. 

What was done in this way had to be done with- 
out the knowledge of her regularly appointed agents 


192 


LORDS OF THE WORLD 


and of residents who were secretly in her pay. 
Something had been accomplished ; the garrison 
had ample supplies ; the houses of the upper class 
were, for the most part, well furnished. But the 
poor, who had no room for stores in their dwellings, 
even if they had the means to purchase them in 
advance, were dangerously near to want. It is for 
the needs of this class that public provision has to 
be made in any city that expects to be besieged, 
and it was in respect of this public provision that 
the action of the Carthaginian government had been 
hampered. 

Things had grown rapidly worse since the build- 
ing of the walled camp across the isthmus. Noth- 
ing could now be brought into the besieged city by 
land. The sea was still partly open. The Roman 
fleet kept up a blockade, but it was not really effec- 
tive. As soon as the wind began to blow from the 
sea the war-ships had to stand off from the shore, 
and the blockade-runners had their opportunity. 
Prices ruled so high in the city that a trader who 
contrived to take safely to its destination one cargo 
out of two made a very handsome profit. 

All the fishing population of the African coast 
for a hundred miles on either side of the besieged 
city was busily employed in the traffic. Light ves- 
sels drawing but little water were chiefly used, for 
they could be safely navigated in places where a 


MOVE AND COUNTERMOVE 


193 


war-ship would inevitably have grounded. So 
rudely and cheaply were they built that the loss, if 
they were wrecked, was insignificant. The great 
difficulty was the weather ; if this continued to be 
fine for ten days together, a large part of the be- 
sieged population came within an easily measurable 
distance of starvation. 

Scipio now resolved on making a great counter- 
move — he would block up the approach to the har- 
bour. He had, in fact, for some time past foreseen 
the necessity of taking this step, and had prepared 
a vast amount of material for the work, employing 
great numbers of the native population in quarrying 
stone and cutting timber. So much had been ac- 
complished in this way that when the time came for 
executing the work little more than the actual con- 
struction remained to be done. This was not so 
difficult as it had seemed. The harbour mouth 
was not very far from the shore occupied by the 
Romans. 

The first thing was to lay a foundation for the mole 
that it was proposed to build. This was done by 
sinking huge blocks of roughly hewn stone, chiefly 
during moonless nights. During this stage of the 
work the besieged took little heed of what was 
going on, or, anyhow, took no pains to interrupt or 
hinder it. There was a suspicion, and more than a 
suspicion, of Scipio’ s purpose, but Hasdrubal, him- 
13 


194 


LORDS OF THE WORLD 


self indolent and incompetent, haughtily refused to 
listen to any suggestion from his subordinates. 
But even Hasdrubal was roused when the structure 
reached the surface of the water. What he saw 
was a mole, more than thirty yards broad, stretching 
across the mouth of the harbour, and shutting off 
every channel available even for the smallest craft. 

Hasdrubal now developed, or accepted, a plan 
which for a time at least was a virtual check to 
Scipio’s move. He kept up a brisk discharge of 
missiles on the men employed in building the mole. 
So sharp and continuous was it that the besiegers 
had little attention to give to what was being done 
on the opposite side of the harbour. It was a sur- 
prise, and a very unwelcome surprise to them, that 
no sooner had they stopped up one mouth of the 
harbour, than they found that another exit had been 
created. The whole population, every man, woman, 
and child in the city, that could ply a spade or pick, 
wheel a barrow-load or carry a basket of earth, 
had been working night and day at excavating an- 
other mouth to the harbour. 

Nor was this all ; a still greater surprise, so great, 
indeed, as to be almost overwhelming, remained be- 
hind. 

One of the conditions of the peace granted to 
Carthage after the fatal defeat of Zama 1 had been 

1 The battle which brought the Second Punic War to a conclusion in 203 b.c. 


MOVE AND COUNTERMOVE 


195 


the surrender of all the ships of war but twenty. 
In a way this condition had been observed. There 
had never been more than twenty ships in commis- 
sion at one time ; but the old hulks had not always 
been destroyed. At first they had been kept to 
serve various purposes ; latterly, as another war 
began to loom in the future, they had been pre- 
served with the intention of using them again. A 
number of merchant vessels also were furnished 
with crews and an armament that was at least 
passably effective. 

And, marvellous to relate, all this had been done 
without the knowledge of the besiegers. There was 
a constant flow of deserters from the city, increasing 
as time went on and the prospects of Carthage be- 
came less and less hopeful. Yet none of them had 
any definite information to give. That something 
was going on they knew ; they had heard for some 
time a great sound of hammering — that, indeed, 
had been audible in the Roman camp when the 
wind blew from the dockyard — but the restrictions 
on admission to the arsenals had been rigidly en- 
forced. So there ended the information which they 
were able to give. 

Nothing, then, could have exceeded the astonish- 
ment of the besiegers when a new fleet, the exist- 
ence of which no one had suspected, issued from a 
harbour mouth which no one had ever seen. A thin 


196 


LORDS OF THE WORLD 


bank of earth had been kept to the last, so that to 
observers from outside, as also to the Roman ships 
as they cruised backwards and forwards along the 
coast, nothing appeared to have been changed. 
When everything else was ready, all the available 
labour in Carthage was set to work to clear this 
bank away. The task was finished by dawn. At 
sunrise the new fleet, magnificently equipped, for 
there had been a lavish expenditure on the orna- 
ment as well as the armament of the ships, sailed 
out of the harbour by its new exit. 

Unfortunately for Carthage there was no one to 
make the most of the opportunity. A vigorous at- 
tack on the Roman fleet — scattered as it was, and 
altogether unprepared for action, some of the ships 
being under repair, and nearly all of them but half- 
manned, their crews being largely employed on 
shore— might have been successful, and have even 
postponed the fate of Carthage. But it was not to 
be. Hasdrubal, self-opinionated and incapable, 
paralysed everything and everybody. The fleet pa- 
raded for a while along the coast, and had the bar- 
ren honour of holding without dispute, for that day 
at least, the possession of the sea. 

“The crews must be exercised first,” said Has- 
drubal, who was on board what we may call the 
flag-ship, to the veteran who directed its navigation ; 
“but in a few days ” 


MOVE AND COUNTERMOVE 


197 


“There’s no exercise like fighting,” growled the 
old man as he turned away. 

And this was the common opinion of Carthage. So 
strong and so general was it, and so vigorously ex- 
pressed, that Hasdrubal could not afford to disre- 
gard it. Word was passed round to the captains 
that they must be ready to engage the next day. 
In the morning, accordingly, the fleet sailed out 
again. Everyone was in high spirits, for it is an 
immense relief for those who have been long cooped 
up within walls, occupied with the tedious task of 
a protracted defence, to renew the more adventurous 
and interesting experience of attack. Some victories 
were won. One of the Carthaginian ships contrived 
to ram two antagonists in rapid succession. This 
vessel was a present to the state by one of the mer- 
chant companies, and no expense had been spared 
in making it of the strongest build and furnishing 
it with an effective crew of free-born, well-paid 
rowers. Another captured one of the Roman ships 
by boarding. Cleanor was serving in this, and, 
owing to the death of one and the disablement of 
the other of his superior officers, had the unexpected 
honour of leading the boarders. There was a sharp 
struggle, but ultimately the Roman crew was over- 
powered and compelled to surrender. 

On the other hand, there were counterbalancing, 
or almost counterbalancing losses, for towards the 


198 


LORDS OF THE WORLD 


end of the day the Romans had recovered from 
their surprise, and more than held their own. 

Scipio was everywhere, conspicuous in the scarlet 
cloak of the general-in-coramand. Once as he passed 
he was well within a javelin-throw of our hero. 
Cleanor, as he doubted whether he ought not to do 
his best to rid Carthage of a formidable enemy, fan- 
cied that he saw a smile of recognition on his face. 
When it grew dark, the struggle was suspended by 
mutual consent. 

The next morning it was renewed. This time 
fortune declared itself unequivocally against Car- 
thage. It was not that there was any marked 
falling off in the efficiency or courage of the crews. 
It was the ships themselves that began to fail. 
Many, as has been said, were old hulks patched up 
to serve again. Two days of incessant use, with 
occasional collisions with friends and enemies, had 
not improved them. The seams began to open and 
old leaks to show themselves, so that by noon at 
least a score were more or less water-logged. Those 
that had suffered most, about half the number, fell 
into the hands of the enemy. Five other ships were 
sunk. 

The Roman loss was less than half of this amount. 
It was not a crushing defeat, but it was sufficient 
to show that Carthage could not hope for deliver- 
ance from her fleet. Still, some advantage remained 


HELP FROM THE HILLS 


199 


to the besieged. It would be impossible to close up 
the new mouth of the harbour, so deep was the 
water into which it opened. On this side, therefore, 
the Roman blockade could never be made complete. 
Notwithstanding this gain, the whole result was a 
heavy discouragement. 


CHAPTER XVIII 

HELP FROM THE HILLS 

O NE day, shortly after the events related in my 
last chapter, Cleanor’s somewhat melancholy 
m usings on the prospects of the future were inter- 
rupted by the arrival of his friend Grisco, who had 
been absent from his duty for several weeks. 

“ You have been wondering, I daresay,’ ’ said the 
Carthaginian, “what has become of me the last 
month or so.” 

“Yes, indeed,” replied Cleanor; “I asked the 
officers of your battalion about you, but could find 
out nothing. However, I noticed once or twice just 
a suspicion of hesitation in their answers, and so I 
came to the conclusion that there was a secret.” 

“Well,” said Gisco, “there was what you may 
call a secret. Anyhow, we thought it best not to 


200 


LORDS OF THE WORLD 


say anything about the business I had on hand. It 
was to be a little surprise to our friends outside, and 
that is not so easy to manage as things are now. 
There is very little that goes on in Carthage but is 
known the next day in Scipio’s tent. This time, 
however, we have managed, I hope, better.” 

“Is it a secret still ? ” asked Clean or. 

“No, no,” said Gisco, “everyone may know it 
now, and, besides, you are not one of those that a 
man has to keep secrets from. But now for my 
story. I left Carthage just thirty days ago — it was, 
I remember, the day before the new moon. It was 
no easy matter, I can tell you, to get away. One of 
the Roman sentinels caught sight of me, and I had 
to take to the lagoon. Happily the water was deep 
enough for diving, and I am a good hand at that 
business, but when I came up to breathe I was all 
but hit by an arrow. However, I got safely to the 
place I was bound for. There Bithyas met me — 
Bithyas, you remember, was Gulussa’s master of 
the horse — with two or three troopers and a spare 
horse for me. Our errand was to go to the tribes 
that live far up in the country, and gather recruits 
for a campaign against Rome. Bithyas, who knows 
the whole region and the tribes better than any man 
living, was to introduce me, and I was to make 
engagements on the part of Carthage. We carried 
with us a sort of talisman which Bithyas had got 


HELP FROM THE HILLS 


201 


hold of, I don’t exactly know liow. Anyhow, it 
seemed to be respected everywhere, and as soon as 
it was produced we never failed to get a hearing, and 
we must have gone to not less than fifteen chiefs.” 

“ You say a ‘hearing, ’ ” Cleanor put in ; “but 
how did you contrive to make yourselves under- 
stood \ ” 

“Well, in this way. We took new interpreters 
when they were wanted. We found that a man 
could always make himself understood by the peo- 
ple of the next tribe. Sometimes the same man 
served for two or three. When he came to the last 
place where he could be of use, he. picked out some 
likely man, and instructed him in what he was to 
say. This, after all, was very simple. It was chiefly 
that they were wanted to fight, and that a chief was 
to get so many gold pieces, an under-chief so many, 
and a common man so many. It does not take 
much talking to explain so much. It might almost 
be done by signs. Of course, we could not carry 
the money about with us, but we made a present to 
each of the chiefs, and commonly, when the tribe 
was a strong one, to one or more of the sub-chiefs. 
Promises, you may be sure, we did not spare. 
Even if all goes well, I don’t see how Carthage is 
ever to pay her debts.” 

“And did you have much success?” inquired 
Cleanor. 


202 


LORDS OF THE WORLD 


“ Yes, we had,” replied Gisco. “ If all the prom- 
ises that were made to us are kept, we shall have 
a hundred thousand men. But that is, of course, 
too much to expect. If three-fourths, or even a 
half, let us say, are put into the field, it will be a 
very great thing, and with what we can do to help 
by a sortie from the city, we ought to give a good 
account of the Romans.” 

“ And how soon is this to be ? ” 

“ Very soon now ; the tribes were beginning to 
move when we left to return. It took us ten days’ 
hard riding to get back from the last settlement 
that we visited. They can’t come as quickly as 
that, but they don’t linger on the march. Re- 
member that they are all horsemen, though, when 
it comes to a battle, some of them dismount.” 

“Well,” said Cleanor, “you have been into a 
new country. Did you see anything strange? 
There are marvellous tales told about these regions 
and the people who live in them. What has your 
experience been ? ” 

“Well,” replied Gisco, “I saw some very curious 
things. And as to the things I heard, and heard 
too from people who swore that they had seen them 
with their own eyes, they pass all belief. I never 
saw such trees as there are on the lower slopes of 
the hills. You know those tables made of one piece 
of wood? Well, they come from that region. I 


HELP FROM THE HILLS 


203 


saw some that were being sawn off, and others that 
were being polished. Then the vines were enor- 
mously large. I came across some with stems as 
big as an ordinary-sized column of a temple, and I 
heard of others — one never sees things quite as 
wonderful as one hears of — that two men could 
hardly encompass with their arms. I saw crocodiles, 
just like those one has heard of in the Nile, and I 
was told of leeches that were ten feet long — that is 
pretty good, but then the ear can take in more than 
the eye. In one place that we came to there was a 
whole colony of monkeys, just like so many men 
and women, mothers nursing their children, and old 
ones with white heads, some chattering peaceably 
together like friends, and some quarrelling ever so 
fiercely. As for lions, there were troops of them. 
Hardly a night passed without an alarm, and though 
we picketed our horses close to our tents, we had 
several carried off at night.” 

“And what,” asked Cleanor, “do you think of 
these people as soldiers \ ” 

“Well,” replied Gisco, “I can hardly judge. 
They are marvellously good horsemen, and have 
their animals trained to obey them in a most won- 
derful way. A man may leave his horse standing — 
not tethered, you understand — as long as he chooses, 
and when he is riding on one, he will have another 
following him like a dog. But whether they will 


204 


LORDS OF THE WORLD 


be able to stand against the Romans is another 
matter. If it were not for their numbers, I should 
not expect much. But with four or five to one 
they must do something; let them only go on 
charging and they must break the line at last.” 

As Gisco had predicted, the native forces did not 
linger on the march. They had none of the im- 
pedimenta of an army, carrying only their arms and 
their food — of this last but a few days’ supply — 
and they were all mounted. On the third day after 
the conversation related above their advanced guard 
could be seen on the summit of the hills which 
formed the sky-line to the south. It had been ar- 
ranged that they should make their way to the rock- 
fortress of Nepheris, now almost the only place, 
some remote spots in the hills excepted, which Car- 
thage still possessed outside its own city walls. 
Nepheris was held by a strong garrison of mer- 
cenaries, under the command of a skilful soldier, 
Diogenes by name. Scipio had never been able to 
spare a sufficient force to invest it, but it had been 
masked by a considerable body of troops under the 
command of King Gulussa, strengthened by a small 
Roman contingent under the leadership of C. 
Lselius . 1 This force was to be attacked by the na- 

1 Lselius was as close a friend to the Younger as his father had been to the 
Elder Scipio. The two were born in the same year (b.c. 185), as were also 
the elder pair of friends (b. c. 234). It should be remembered that the 


HELP FROM THE HILLS 


205 


tive army, while Diogenes with his mercenaries 
was to make a sally from the fortress. Another 
sally, timed as nearly as possible for the same 
moment, was to be made from the city. Everyone, 
besiegers as well as besieged, recognized the fact 
that the critical moment had come. If this effort 
succeeded, the fate of Carthage would be postponed 
almost indefinitely ; if it failed, the capture of the 
city could be only a question of time. If it did not 
yield to force, it would certainly succumb to fam- 
ine. 

Hasdrubal himself was roused by the gravity of 
the situation from his usual self-indulgence and 
lethargy. He was not wholly without the feelings 
of a patriot and a soldier, and in this supreme effort 
of his country he did his best to rise to the occasion. 
The chief object of his energies was the formation of 
what may be called a Sacred Phalanx. It was to 
consist entirely of native Carthaginians, a class of 
troops seldom used except in cases of grave neces- 
sity. These were to be chosen by a method which 
Hasdrubal borrowed from the practice of Rome. 
He began by selecting a hundred men of tried cour- 
age. Each of the hundred chose nine comrades ; 

Younger Scipio was nephew by marriage, though grandson by adoption to 
the Elder. He was the younger son of iEmilius Paulus, whose sister was 
married to the Elder Scipio, and he was adopted by his sister’s son, who had 
no children of his own. 


206 


LORDS OF THE WORLD 


and each of these nine, again, chose nine more. 
The result was a hundred companies, numbering 
each a hundred men, all bound together by the spe- 
cial obligation of a common tie. The legion was 
splendidly equipped with richly gilded armour, and 
arms of the very finest quality. Each company had 
its own badge. 

It was a fine force, but it was all that the citizen 
population of Carthage could do to raise it. Indeed, 
so reduced were the numbers on the roll of military 
effectives that some recruits had to be enfranchised 
in order that they might be enrolled in the legion. 
Cleanor, not a little to his surprise, found himself 
attached to Hasdrubal’s own staff. The general, 
indeed, said a few gracious words to the young man 
when he reported himself. If there had been any 
difference between them, said Hasdrubal, it might 
now be forgotten. A chance such as might never 
be repeated had occurred of saving Carthage. The 
city would not be ungrateful to those who used this 
occasion energetically. 

Cleanor could not banish his recollections of the 
past, and the suspicions which persistently followed 
them ; but his pride was naturally flattered, and he 
hoped for the best. 


THE BATTLE ON THE ISTHMUS 


207 


CHAPTER XIX 

THE BATTLE ON THE ISTHMUS 

T HE Sacred Phalanx, as described in the last 
chapter, was undoubtedly a formidable body 
of men, one that, rightly handled, might win a 
battle. The difficulty was to bring its force to bear. 
There were, in fact, only two ways of doing this. 
One was to break through the lines of investment 
which had been drawn across the isthmus ; the 
other was to transport the troops on shipboard to 
some place from which they might operate. Both 
methods were risky and doubtful, but both offered 
some hope of success. 

The lines of investment had been hastily made, 
contained some weak places, and were not ade- 
quately guarded throughout their length. It was 
possible that they might be carried at one point or 
another by a determined attack. Of the plan of 
transport by sea it could only be said that it was not 
impossible. The new harbour-mouth had, as has 
been said, this advantage over the old, that it 
opened into deep water, where the blockading ships 
could find no anchorage. But if in bad weather it 
became impossible for the Roman fleet to watch the 
exit, it was also impossible, or, to say the least, 
highly dangerous, for any ship to venture out. 


208 


LORDS OF THE WORLD 


Hasdrubal determined to try both methods. He 
divided the phalanx into three parts. Two of these 
three were to assault the investing lines at widely 
distant points ; the third was to try the adventure 
of transport by sea. This was by far the most risky 
undertaking. If the division succeeded in reaching 
the spot at which it aimed, there still remained the 
problem of getting back. As a matter of fact, there 
would be no getting back, except in the event of 
victory. 

For this enterprise, therefore, volunteers were 
called. The volunteering, however, was by com- 
panies. It would have been against the principles 
on which the phalanx was constituted for any one 
soldier to leave the comrades to whom he was 
bound, either by their choice or by his own. But 
about the volunteering there was no difficulty. 
Twenty companies only were wanted, for more 
could not be safely accommodated in the trans- 
ports, but double the number could easily have 
been obtained. The force was put under the com- 
mand of an officer who had a high reputation for 
dashing courage, another of the numerous Hasdru- 
bals, who, it might almost be said, swarmed in 
Carthage. Cleanor was commissioned to act as his 
aide-de-camp. 

Of the attack on the lines of investment little 
need be said. It was not wholly a failure, but it 


THE BATTLE ON THE ISTHMUS 209 

was certainly not a success. Stubborn as was the 
resistance offered by the Romans, the assailants 
broke through the lines at several points. At one 
time as many as seven or eight companies found 
themselves on the further side of the intrenchment, 
with somewhat diminished numbers, indeed, but 
still substantially intact. Yet, for the most part, 
the line was still held by the besiegers. If the ob- 
ject of the Carthaginians had been to cut their way 
through the blockading force, it was accomplished. 
At various points the way out of Carthage lay 
open, and it would have been possible for at least a 
large portion of the force to escape. 

But much more than this was wanted, nothing 
less, in fact, than that the investment should practi- 
cally cease to exist, that the besieged should be 
free to go and to return as they pleased. Nothing 
like this had been achieved. Those who, after a 
fierce struggle, had forced their way through to the 
open country, would have to struggle not less 
fiercely to force their way back. Hasdrubal could 
not afford to run the risk. The loss of such a force 
meant ruin to Carthage, which no longer possessed 
its old powers of recovery. He reluctantly ordered 
the signal of recall to be sounded, and the troops 
still more reluctantly obeyed. 

The division to which Cleanor was attached fared 
better, so far, at least, as to reach the field of battle. 

14 


210 


LORDS OF THE WORLD 


It was exceptionally fortunate in both embarking 
and landing without hindrance. A strong sea-wind 
had been blowing for some days, and the blockad- 
ing squadron had been compelled to leave the har- 
bour mouth unwatched. Then came a sudden 
change of weather, and the troops, who had been 
bivouacking for two days on the chance of some 
such opportunity occurring, were hurried on ship- 
board, and had actually reached their destination 
before the Roman ships had put to sea again. 

The march to the place of meeting was effected 
without molestation, and a junction was made with 
the native allies. Diogenes, too, did not fail to 
perform his part in the concerted plan, arriving ex- 
actly at the right moment with a picked force of a 
thousand mercenaries. But the hope that some- 
thing towards the relief of Carthage might be 
effected by this combination of forces was entirely 
disappointed. The native allies made one charge, 
but only one. Twenty thousand horsemen came 
down the incline, at the foot of which the Roman 
army was drawn up, at a gallop, their white bur- 
nooses streaming behind them, and their spear- 
points flashing in the sun. 

Cleanor always said that it was the most mag- 
nificent spectacle that he ever saw. Some of King 
Gulussa’s squadrons were swept away by the im- 
petuous rush of a multitude which outnumbered 


THE BATTLE ON THE ISTHMUS 211 

them many times. But the line of the Roman 
legions — there were three of them on the field, for 
Scipio had brought all his available force into 
action — did not waver for an instant. A few of the 
boldest riders hurled themselves on the Roman 
pikes. But not so much as a single gap was made 
in the ranks. Almost in a moment the huge array 
— like some great animal which exhausts its 
strength and spirit in one struggle — broke into 
hopeless confusion. Then the Roman cavalry, with 
the reserved squadrons of Numidian horse, charged 
the helpless mass. 

The slaughter that followed was terrible. It was 
said that seventy thousand mountaineers were left 
dead on the battle-field. That is impossible. Many 
of the tribesmen fled as soon as they saw that the 
day was not to be theirs, and these must have se- 
cured such a start as to make their escape easy. 
But the victorious cavalry went on slaying till their 
arms were weary. 

The safety of the mercenaries and the third divis- 
ion of the phalanx was now seriously compromised. 
They had, fortunately, effected a junction before 
the battle began, and it was of course a necessity 
that they should keep together. So much was cer- 
tain, but it was not equally certain what was the 
best course for them to follow. The Carthaginians 
were anxious to return, if return was in any way 


212 


LORDS OF THE WORLD 


possible, to the city. Their families, their friends, 
every tiling in fact that they held dear was there ; 
it was only too probable that unless they got back 
at once they would never see the city or them 
again. The mercenaries, on the other hand, were 
bent on returning to the fortress of Nepheris, from 
which they had sallied forth. The fortress was 
near, so near that the legions could not bar their 
way, though the light-armed troops and the cavalry 
might molest them on the march. 

A hurried council of war was held ; there was no 
time for discussion. Each officer — there were seven 
of rank to vote — gave his decision without reasons. 
Considerations of safety, which were overwhelm- 
ingly strong in favour of a retreat on the fortress of 
Nepheris, carried the day. Five voted for this 
course, and a sixth, who had originally declared for 
cutting their way through to Carthage, changed his 
mind when he saw himself in a small minority. 

Only Hasdrubal was left in opposition. I swore 
to defend Carthage, not Nepheris!” he exclaimed. 
Then, with an unconscious imitation of the obstinate 
Spartan at Platsea, he took a huge stone from the 
ground and threw it down in front of him, saying, 
“ I give my vote for remaining.” 1 * * 


1 “ At Platsea Pausanias commanded the Spartans to change their position. 

All the captains but one were ready to obey, but Amompharetus refused to 

move. 4 1 will not fly,’ he said, 4 before the strangers, nor bring disgrace 


THE BATTLE ON THE ISTHMUS 


213 


Cleanor’s private opinion was that his chiefs 
obstinacy was nothing else than madness, but he 
could not leave the general to whose person he had 
been attached. 

If Hasdrubal had thought that his opposition 
would determine the action of his colleagues he was 
mistaken. Without a word — and indeed there was 
no time for argument — they moved off in the direc- 
tion of the fortress. Hasdrubal was brought to his 
senses by this decisive action, just as the Spartan 
had been before him. Nor could he mistake the 
meaning of the agitation that at once showed itself 
among his men. It was not difficult to see that he 
would soon be left almost alone. 

Accordingly he gave the signal to march. Some 
time, however, had been lost, and a number of light- 
armed troops from the Roman army were within a 
short distance of the retreating force. It became 
necessary, if their attacks were to be checked, for 
the rear ranks to face about. There was little or no 
actual fighting. The pursuers fell back as soon as 

upon Sparta.’ After a while the Athenians sent a horseman to learn why 
the Spartans did not change their place as had been agreed upon. When the 
man came up the dispute was waxing hot, and Amompharetus took up with 
both hands a huge stone, and put it at the feet of the general, saying : 4 With 
this pebble ( psephos ) I give my vote not to fly from the strangers. ’ At last 
the general gave the signal for retreat, expecting that Amompharetus and 
hiB men would not like to be left behind. And so indeed it turned out, for, 
when he saw the rest of the army in motion, he also left his place and fol- 
lowed them.” — Herod, ix. 58-55. 


214 


LORDS OF THE WORLD 


the retreating division showed them a firm front. 
Their object was to cause as much delay as possible ; 
the Carthaginians, on the other hand, had to solve 
the problem of making these necessary halts inter- 
fere as little as possible with the rapidity of their 
retreat. In this they were greatly helped by their 
high discipline and what may be called their per- 
fect coherence, and they had actually got almost 
within a bow-shot of the rock-fortress when they 
had to turn, as they hoped, for the last time. 

There was now some really sharp fighting. The 
pursuers had been reinforced by a detachment of 
picked troops from the main body, men chosen for 
the speed with which they could move under a 
heavy equipment of armour and arms. The Cartha- 
ginians fell slowly back before them, keeping an 
unbroken line, and encouraged by the thought that 
if they could get within range of the walls they 
would be in comparative safety. 

Nor was this hope disappointed. The Romans, 
indeed, pressed on, for the walls were to all appear- 
ance deserted, but this appearance concealed a care- 
full}^ concerted surprise. Hundreds of archers and 
slingers were crouching behind the battlements, and 
there were scores of catapults, with their range 
carefully adjusted, ready to discharge volleys of 
stones and javelins. At a given signal, fire, if the 
expression may be allowed, was opened with over- 


TREACHERY 


215 


whelming effect. The Roman line absolutely stag- 
gered under the blow. At the same time the gates 
were thrown open, and before the enemy could re- 
cover, the whole of the retreating force was safe 
within the w T alls. 

But when, an hour or so afterwards, the roll was 
called, Cleanor was among the missing. 


CHAPTER XX 


TREACHERY 


HE young Greek had had a narrow escape with 



JL his life. Two wounds — one on the head, 
producing a severe concussion of the brain ; the 
other on the thigh, causing an almost fatal loss of 
blood — had well-nigh finished his career. For 
nearly forty-eight hours he remained in a state of 
complete unconsciousness ; then the brain slowly 
began to resume its functions. But the weakness 
of extreme exhaustion still continued. He lay for 
days dimly conscious of his existence, but content 
to accept his surroundings, to swallow the food and 
drink which were offered him, and to sleep without 
asking any questions. 

Then a certain curiosity began to awake in him. 


216 


LORDS OF THE WORLD 


The place in which he found himself was unfamiliar, 
and he lazily wondered where he was. The voices 
about him were strange — his sight was still too 
weak to distinguish faces — and the speech which 
they used was strange. His first attempt to move 
was followed by a feeling of absolute helplessness ; 
his first effort at speech produced a sound so far- 
away that he hardly recognized his own voice. 

It was on the morning of the seventh day, after 
an unusually long and refreshing sleep, that he felt 
equal to the task of realizing where he was. The 
physician, who luckily happened to be paying him 
his morning visit, at once recognized the improve- 
ment in his patient. 

“Hush!” he said, when the young man at- 
tempted to speak. 4 4 Be quiet till you have had 
some food. You are better, I see, but you want 
some refreshment. Then you may ask questions, 
and listen to what is told you, but only for as long 
as I allow.’ ’ 

He clapped his hands, and an attendant entered 
the room, carrying a cup of broth which had been 
fortified with a cordial. Cleanor, who was still so 
helpless that he had to be fed like an infant, swal- 
lowed it with an excellent appetite, and was sorry 
when the last spoonful had been administered. 

“Good!” said the man of science; 4 4 we have 
positively brought a little red into your cheeks. 


TREACHERY 


217 


You shall have another allowance when that has 
run itself out three times ; ” and he turned, as he 
spoke, a water-clock which stood on a table by the 
bedside. “Meanwhile, you can receive a friend 
who has been waiting for some days to renew his 
acquaintance with you.” 

He nodded to the attendant, and the man pushed 
aside the curtain which hung over the entrance to 
the tent. The next moment the expected visitor 
appeared. Cleanor recognized in him the young 
officer, kinsman to Scipio, whose life he had saved 
in the attack on the Megara. 

“The gods be thanked,” said the young Roman, 
“ that I see you yourself again ! ” 

“ That I am myself I must believe,” replied 
Cleanor, “but of everything else I feel doubtful. 
Tell me what has happened.” 

Scipio looked to the physician with a tacit in- 
quiry whether the subject was permitted. 

“ Speak on ; it will worry him more, now that he 
has begun to think, to be left in ignorance.” 

“To begin, then,” said Scipio, “when did you 
see me last 1 ” 

“Now I come to think of it, a dim remembrance 
of your face is about the last thing I can recall. 
But between that and the present there is a gulf of 
forgetfulness.” 

“And no wonder; if you hadn’t had a head of 


218 


LORDS OF THE WORLD 


adamant that same gulf would have swallowed you 
up for good. Well, do you remember anything 
about a battle ? ” 

“ Yes, yes ; the things begin to come back to me ; 
you were on a bay horse. I remember thinking 
what a skeleton it was.” 

“No wonder ; these African pastures are terribly 
bare.” 

“And now I remember that I thought of some- 
thing else. It was those verses in Homer, the 
verses that Diomed says to Glaucus when they meet 
on the battle-field, and find that they are old family 
friends.” 1 

The young Roman laughed aloud. “Now, this 
is curious,” he cried. “We are bound to be friends, 
if thinking the same things be a mark of friendship. 
I remember that the very same thought about 
Glaucus and Diomed occurred to me. You have 
not forgotten everything, it is clear.” 

“Come, my dear sir,” interposed the physician, 
“you must not let him talk so much. Tell him 
your story, and then leave him to get a little rest.” 

“ Well,” said Scipio, “what 1 have to say is very 
soon told. You will remember the discharge from 


1 “ E’en in the turmoil of battle each other’s spears will we shun : 

1 shall find many a Trojan, and allies many an one 

To slay, whom my feet shall o’ertake, or a god deliver to me ; 

And for thee be Achaians enow, to smite as thy strength Bhall be.” 



I SAW YOU STOOP AND LIFT YOUR 


COMPANION FROM 


99 


THE GROUND 



TREACHERY 


219 


the walls of the fort that checked our advance. It 
was admirably calculated ; but, of course, when the 
fighting was so close as it was at the time, and the 
front ranks of the two armies were actually mixed 
together, it could not damage us without doing 
some harm to you. I saw two or three of your men 
struck down, manifestly, from the way in which 
they fell, by some missile from the walls. One of 
them I noticed particularly, because he was close to 
you. There could be no mistake, for there was a 
clear space round you. Our men had fallen back, 
and yours were making the best of their way to the 
gates. You two were rather behind the rest. I 
saw you stoop as if to lift your companion from the 
ground. You were looking towards us, for I par- 
ticularly remember that I saw }^our face. You 
raised the man from the ground, but then your foot 
seemed to slip, and you fell forwards. Then you 
raised the man again. Several of us were watching 
you, and I have heard from them since that their 
recollections agree exactly with mine. And of this, 
too, I am quite certain, there was not a hand raised 
against you from our side of the field of battle. 
Well, we all saw you rise again with the man in 
your arms. You got him over your shoulder, for 
that, of course, was the easiest way of carrying him, 
but you still had your face looking our way. And 
before you turned you were struck by ■” 


220 


LORDS OF THE WORLD 


“Before I turned ?” interrupted the sick man, 
who had been listening with rapt attention to the 
narrative. “Before I turned, you say; you are 
sure that I was struck by my friends behind me?” 

“As sure,” replied Scipio, “ as that I am sitting 
here and speaking to you at this moment.” 

“ Go on, then.” 

“ Before you turned you were struck from behind. 
The first blow was on the back of your leg. I saw 
you put }^our hand to the place. And you had 
hardly done that when you were felled to the ground 
by a second blow. That was on your head. We 
guessed as much from the way you fell ; and when 
we came to examine you afterwards, we found it to 
be as I have said. Your good physician here will 
tell you the particulars.” 

“Yes,” said the leech, “I will at the proper 
time. But for the present my patient has heard 
enough. Indeed, unless I am very much mistaken, 
he has heard too much.” 

“Whether it is enough or too much,” said Clea- 
nor, “I must hear it all. It would be ten times 
worse to be left in this suspense. I can only judge 
from what you say that I must have been struck 
from behind, that is, by my own friends. But that 
treachery I can’t believe. What do you say, sir,” 
he went on, looking to the physician; “can you 
throw any light on the matter? ” 


TREACHERY 


221 


“Be calm, be calm, my friend,’ ’ said tlie physi- 
cian. “You will undo all the good that we have 
been doing you for the last ten days. Here let me 
feel your pulse. . . . It is just as I thought,” 

he went on, “a regular bounding pulse. I would 
have given anything for you to have had such a 
pulse when I first took you in hand. But now it 
means fever, and fever means I don’t know what.” 

“ Still, I must have the whole story now,” per- 
sisted Cleanor. “Do you think I can sleep with 
this doubt regarding my friends hanging over me?” 

“Well, a wilful man will have his way, but, 
mind, I wash my hands of the whole business. I 
am not responsible for what may happen. And it 
promised to be such a beautiful cure, too ! ” 

“ For heaven’s sake, go on ! Tell me how I came 
to be wounded ! ” cried the patient, with an empha- 
sis of which no one would have thought him capa- 
ble half an hour before. 

“Well,” replied the physician, “I will tell you 
what I know, but it is under protest. You see 
this” — he produced from his pocket a leaden bul- 
let of the kind commonly used in slings — “I ex- 
tracted this from the wound on your hip. A nasty 
wound it was, and had caused a terrible loss of 
blood. You see that mark? It is not a Roman 
mark, certainly. Do you recognize it? Unless I 
am very much mistaken, it is the Carthaginian 


222 


LORDS OF THE WORLD 


letter that answers to what we Greeks call alpha. 
What do you say V y 

“ You are right,” said Cleanor. “I have myself 
given them out to the slingers from the stores. 
Yes, it is a Carthaginian bullet.” 

“Then there is another thing,” the physician 
went on. “When they were stripping you to put 
you into bed, this stone that I hold in my hand fell 
out of a fold in your clothes. There were some 
fragments of hair upon it, and I recognized the hair 
as yours. See, they are here still;” and he pro- 
duced a small piece of papyrus in which they were 
wrapped. “ Now, where did that bit of stone come 
from ? It has got, if you look closely at it, a little 
mortar on one side. At some time it has been built 
into a wall. You don’t find such things lying 
about on the open plain. No ; that bit of stone 
came from somewhere inside Nepheris. I have got 
some ten or twelve other pieces of stone very like 
it, that were picked up near the place by a boy 
whom I sent to search the next day. They are 
much of a size, and, I should say, though I don’t 
profess to know much about such things, that they 
came from a catapult. Nothing else could have 
sent them so far. Now I have told you all I 
know.” 

“Many thanks, sir,” said the Greek in a low 
voice. “I am convinced that there has been 


TREACHERY 


223 


treachery ; indeed you leave no room for doubt. 
But I could almost wish,” he added with a melan- 
choly smile, “I could almost wish that you had 
been less skilful, and my friends here less affection- 
ate. I hardly feel as grateful to you as I ought to 
be. It is a grievous thing for a man to feel that he 
has been wounded in the house of his friends.” 

“Come, come,” said the kindly physician, “it 
may have been only an accident or a mistake 
after all ! However, you have had excitement 
enough, and more than enough, for the day. Take 
this, and it will send you to sleep ; ” and producing 
a small phial of poppy-juice from his wallet he 
poured a potent dose into a cup of wine, and gave 
it to his patient. 

“Thanks, doctor,” murmured Cleanor, but add- 
ed in a whisper, “Yes, sleep, but if only there 
could be no waking ! ” 


224 


LORDS OF THE WORLD 


CHAPTER XXI 

POLYBIUS 

C LEANOR’S wish for the sleep from which there 
is no waking was only too genuine. He felt 
almost heart-broken at the treatment which he had 
received. He had thrown himself into the cause of 
Carthage with a single-minded energy which had 
never been permitted to flag, and these wounds 
were his reward ! 

True, he had a pretty clear notion of the quarter 
from which this treacherous enmity had proceeded. 
He felt sure that Hasdrubal had never forgiven 
him. That his vanity had been humbled and his 
cruelty baffled were offences that would be sure to 
rankle in the mind of such a man. But w T hat could 
be said for a people which was content to be ruled 
by a Hasdrubal ? The young Greek felt that he 
had lost his country, so to speak, a second time. 
His native town had perished, and now the city of 
his adoption, Carthage, which he had been eager to 
serve with life and death, had cruelly repudiated 
him. 

The first result of these thoughts was an absolute 
loss of all interest in life. He did not wish to re- 
cover, and for a time it seemed most likely that 


POLYBIUS 


225 


what lie did not wish would not be. The physician 
found that all the ground which had been gained was 
lost, and for some days he despaired of his patient’s 
life. There was no active disease ; that would have 
given his art something definite to combat. But 
there was a total indifference to everything, which 
offered an inert, and, as it seemed, unconquerable 
resistance to all his efforts. 

Still, at twenty there is an almost physical desire 
for life which triumphs over the deepest sorrows 
and the most acute disappointments. Had Cleanor 
been master of his own actions he might have com- 
mitted suicide. As it was, lying helpless in the 
hands of his physician and his friends, he had to 
submit to being kept alive. His appetite returned 
by degrees, though he was almost ashamed of being 
hungry. As his strength grew, and the blood began 
to course more briskly through his veins, he found 
interests revive which he had thought to be extin- 
guished, interests to which he seemed to have bid- 
den farewell. And so the process of recovery went 
on. 

The young Scipio did his best to help it forward. 
He had often reproached himself with haste and 
want of discretion in prematurely revealing to his 
friend and preserver the revolting truth of the 
treachery of which he had been the object. He 
now exerted himself to repair the mischief. His 
15 


226 


LORDS OF THE WORLD 


attendance by the sick-bed was unceasing. He was 
always ready to talk, to read aloud, or to play a 
game of draughts or soldiers, as the strength of the 
patient permitted. 

And all was done with so genuine an affection 
that it could not fail to win its way to the heart of 
the patient. More than once the young man’s great 
kinsman, the Commander himself, spared an hour 
from his innumerable occupations to pay a visit to 
the sick man’s tent. Cleanor felt again, in even 
increased force, what had impressed him at his first 
meeting, the inexplicable charm of Scipio’s per- 
sonality. 

Under these circumstances Cleanor’ s health im- 
proved, at first almost in spite of himself, for he 
could hardly be said to have had any wish for life, 
and then with greater rapidity, as time weakened 
the painful impressions of the past and strength- 
ened new interests and hopes. In the early days 
of his illness his host, for he occupied the private 
tent of the younger Scipio, had been granted a fur- 
lough from his military duties, for the express pur- 
pose of attending on his guest. Though renewed 
more than once, this had to come to an end. 

But Cleanor never lacked company, and that of 
the most interesting kind. It will be remembered 
that on the occasion of his visiting the Homan 
camp in the capacity of interpreter to the officer 


POLYBIUS 


227 


negotiating an exchange of prisoners, lie had made 
the acquaintance of the historian Polybius. This 
acquaintance he was now able to improve. Polyb- 
ius, as a non-combatant, had plenty of time to 
bestow on the invalid, in whom he found an intel- 
ligent listener and even critic. It became his con- 
stant custom to bring what he had written on the 
previous day, read it aloud to the invalid, and in- 
vite his criticism on it. 

“I want above all things,” Polybius said, “to be 
both candid and clear. Tell me if I seem to write 
like a partisan, or if I am obscure. What you do 
not readily understand will certainly be unintelli- 
gible to nine readers out of ten.” 

The reading was commonly followed by a con- 
versation, in which a great variety of subjects were 
touched upon, and in which Cleanor found a quite 
inexhaustible interest. Polybius, who was now 
past middle age , 1 had seen about as much of men 
and manners as any man of his time. He had 
held high military office in his native country, com- 
manding the cavalry of the Achaean League, the 
last effort of Greece to hold her place in the world 
of politics. He had never seen, it so happened, 
any active service of importance, but in the knowl- 
edge of the theory of war he was unsurpassed by 

1 He was probably born about the year 204 B.C., and so would now (147 
B.C.) be in his fifty-eighth year. 


228 


LORDS OF THE WORLD 


any man of his time. He had indeed made a very 
important contribution to the military art by 
greatly improving the practice of signalling. If 
there was anything that raised the old soldier’s 
vanity it was this. He could not boast of any vic- 
tories, and he belonged to a nation which had ceased 
to be a factor of importance in the politics of the 
world, but the credit of this invention gave him, he 
believed, a rank among the great soldiers of his- 
tory. It was, he told Cleanor, the proudest mo- 
ment of his life when he saw his system used, and 
used with success, by the great Scipio himself . 1 

1 I have not ventured to interrupt my narrative with an account of the in- 
vention as it was described by Polybius in more than one conversation, but 
I will give it here for the benefit of such readers as may be interested in the 
subject. The plan which Polybius seems to have found in use was a very 
curious one, and, it is evident, far from being effective. The two bodies of 
men which would have to communicate by signal were provided with two 
vessels of exactly the same diameter and depth, and with outlets for the 
water of exactly the same size. Divisions were marked on them, and each 
division was appropriated to some common contingency in military affairs, 
as for instance, “Cavalry has arrived,” “Cavalry is wanted,” “Food is 
short,” etc. The party desirous to communicate showed a torch. The 
other replied in the same way to indicate that they were attending. An- 
other torch was shown by the first party. This meant that the water had 
been set flowing. The other replied in the same way, and set the water 
flowing in their vessel. When the desired point had been reached a third 
signal was shown. As soon as this signal was seen, the other side observed 
how far the water in their vessel had sunk. The defect was that only a few 
out of the innumerable contingencies of war could be thus communicated. 
The system perfected by Polybius was much more effective. The alphabet 
was divided into five groups of five letters each. The party wishing to com- 
municate, which I will in future speak of as No. 1, called the attention of 


POLYBIUS 


229 


But nothing in Polybius’ conversation was more 
interesting than what he had to say about his ex- 
periences during his seventeen years of exile in 
Italy. Along with many hundreds of his country- 
men — with all, it might almost be said, who were in 
any way distinguished or able — he had been de- 
ported to Italy. But he had been more fortunate 
than most of his companions. While they were 
distributed among the towns of Northern Italy, 
where they dragged out a miserable existence, with- 
out books or society, and often with but the scant- 
iest means, he had been permitted to live in Borne. 
He had won the friendship of iEmilius Paulus, the 
great conqueror of Macedonia, and he and his two 
sons interested themselves in him. The society into 
which he was thus introduced was the most brill- 

the other (No. 2.) by raising two torches, and this signal was acknowledged 
in the same way. No. 1 then showed one, two, three, four, or five torches 
on the left to indicate which group he was about to use, and then one, two, 
three, four, or five on the right to indicate the letter in the group. An ob- 
serving-glass with two tubes was necessary for No. 2 to enable him to distin- 
guish between right and left. I will give an example, taking it, for conven- 
ience, from our own alphabet. “ Cavalry wanted ” is the message which 
No. 1 desires to send. The groups of letters would be — 

1 .abode. 2. fg h ij. 3 . klm no. 4. p q r s t. 5. u v w x y. 

z might be neglected, as practically of no use. (In the Greek alphabet of 
24 letters the fifth group would be one letter short. This, of course, would 
not matter. ) 

C is shown by 1 left and 3 on right ; a by 1 and 1 ; v by 5 and 2 ; l by 3 
and 2 ; r by 4 and 3 ; y by 5 and 5. 

And similarly with “wanted.” 


230 


LORDS OF THE WORLD 


iant which Home possessed, and Polybius was 
never weary of talking about it. Cleanor, who, like 
his countrymen in general, had been accustomed to 
regard the Romans as little better than barbarians, 
was astonished at his enthusiasm. 

“We haven’t any society in Greece,” Polybius 
would say, “that can be fairly matched with them. 
They are on a larger scale, more strongly built, so 
to speak. They are not so acute, perhaps, as some 
of our people, but far more solid and strong.” 

“But they have no literature, lam told,” inter- 
rupted Cleanor. 

“That is hardly so,” replied Polybius; “they 
have the beginnings of what will be, I am sure, a 
great literature. At present they do little more 
than translate from us. But their translations are 
better than any originals we can now produce. I 
used to be present at the first readings of the com- 
edies of their great writer, Terence. They were 
taken, it is true, from Menander and Dipliilus and 
other Greeks, but the taking was done with the 
greatest art, and the language was admirable. You 
may take it for granted that with a language so 
finished as Latin now is, a real literature is sure to 
come before long. And it was curious, too, to sec 
what admirable judges of style these young nobles 
were. It wasn’t true, though it was commonly re- 
ported, that Scipio and his friend Lselius wrote 


POLYBIUS 


231 


Terence’s plays for him, but I can bear witness of 
my own knowledge that they helped him greatly 
with them. You see, he was not a Roman born, and 
it is not everyone that can write Roman Latin, any 
more than everyone can write Attic Greek. And 
there is another thing which we cannot match : the 
culture of the women in the best families. Among us 
it is very seldom that a respectable woman can do 
more than read and write ; very often she cannot 
do as much as that. It is very different in Rome — 
not, of course, everywhere, for there are some who 
stick obstinately to the old ways, but in the circle 
of which I am talking. Laelius — he, you know, is 
Scipio’s great friend — whose acquaintance you will 
soon make, has a daughter whose learning would 
put many of our students to shame. She was a girl 
not far into her teens when I used to see her — they 
do not shut up their women in our fashion — and 
she could speak Greek with the very finest accent, 
and they said just the same of her Latin ; of that, 
of course, I could hardly judge so well.” 

“Did you ever see the old man Cato?” asked 
Cleanor. “I have often heard talk of him. He 
must have been a worthy of a very different 
stamp.” 

“Yes, yes, I knew him well,” replied Polybius, 
“ and have excellent reasons for remembering him. 
As you say, he was of a very different stamp, and 


232 


LORDS OF THE WORLD 


belonged to quite another age. He was of a time 
when scarcely a Roman had ever set his foot out- 
side Italy, or even imagined that anything good 
could come from beyond the seas. Yet it was 
strange how the new spirit had succeeded in touch- 
ing even him in his old age. Do you know that I 
had the honour of having him for a pupil? He 
must have been close upon eighty years of age 
when he found that it put him at a disadvantage 
not to know what other men knew, and he actually 
took to learning Greek. He had long been able to 
speak it in a way, but he took to reading it, and I 
had the pleasure of being his teacher. I used to 
stay at his country house, for it was only there that 
he had leisure for his lessons. It was a curious 
experience. He used to entertain his neighbours, 
the country-side folk, farmers and the like, in the 
friendliest fashion. They were fine, sturdy folk, 
and I soon understood, when I saw them, how 
Rome seems likely to conquer the world. And 
what heads they had ! The wine-cup didn’t halt in 
its rounds, I can tell you, and if I hadn’t missed 
my turn as often as I could, the end would have 
been disaster. As for the old man, he never 
shirked . 1 But there was a very harsh side to his 

1 So Horace in his Ode, “ Ad Amphoram ” (To the Wine Jar) : 

“ Cato’s virtue, as we know, 

Caught from thee a warmer glow.” 


POLYBIUS 


233 


character. No tiling could be harder than his deal- 
ings with his slaves. They were mere beasts of 
burden to him, not one whit of more account than 
his horses and oxen — not indeed of so much, see 
ing that they gave more trouble. He gave them 
just as much food as would keep them alive, not a 
morsel more. When they grew too old for work, 
he turned them out of doors to starve. However, 
he behaved very well to me, and if I gave him any 
help, he repaid me many fold. He was won over, 
somehow, to take the part of the exiles. Of course 
Scipio and his friends had a great deal to do with 
it, but I always thought that he had also a kind- 
ness for me. I was in the senate-house when the 
question came on — should the Greek exiles be 
allowed to go home ? There was a hot debate, and 
a close division was expected. The old man rose to 
speak quite at the end of the sitting. I must say 
that what he said was not flattering, but it was cer- 
tainly effective. ‘Are we going to waste any more 
time about these trumpery Greeks? If we don’t 
settle the matter to-day we shall have the whole 
discussion over again.’ Then he sat down. The 
senators laughed; and the motion was carried 
easily. I went to thank him the next day. He 
was very friendty, and I took courage to say that 
if we were allowed to go back, we might also be 
restored to our rank and honours. He smiled very 


234 


LORDS OF THE WORLD 


grimly. 4 Friend,’ he said, ‘when a man is lucky 
enough to get out of the Cyclops’ cave, I take it 
that he would be a fool to go back after his hat or 
his cloak.’ I took the hint, and was off before 
two days had passed. But before I went, he sent 
a message that he wanted to see me. He was then 
at his country house, and he was busy making 
some alterations in a book that he had written 
about agriculture. He was dictating, and a slave, 
a wretched Greek, who looked, as he probably was, 
half-starved, was writing down. 4 1 bought him 
at Magnesia,’ 1 he said, 4 for £20, and an excellent 
bargain it was, but he is getting past his work now.’ 
I saw the poor fellow flush up, but Cato cared no 
more for his feelings than if lie had been a dog. 
4 But now for what I wanted to say to you. I 
don’t suppose that I shall see the end of Carthage, 
though it will not be for want of urging my 
countrymen to bring it about. 2 But you probably 
will, for it can hardly be postponed for another ten 
years. Well, there is one thing in Carthage that I 


1 The great victory of the Romans over Antiochus the Great at Magnesia 
was in 190 B.C. Polybius is speaking of the year 151. 

2 Cato was accustomed, whatever the business before the Senate might 
be, to add to his opinion on the matter in hand, “ I also think that Carthage 
ought to be destroyed.” One of the Scipios, who favoured a more liberal 
policy, or perhaps thought that Rome would be better if she had a not too 
powerful rival, used to add in the same way, “I think that Carthage ought 
still to exist.” 


POLYBIUS 


235 


have always wished to see, and that is, Mago’s 
work on agriculture. I have never been able to get 
anything like a complete copy of it. Only two or 
three of the books — there are twenty-eight in all — 
have come into my hands, and I have found them 
quite admirable, and have made all the use of them 
that I could for my own treatise. What I wanted 
to say to you was to bear this matter in mind 
if you should chance to be at hand when the 
end comes. Books often fare very badly at such 
times. What, indeed, does the common soldier 
know about their value? But, depend upon it, 
this one will be worth a whole ship -load of gold 
and silver. Keep your eyes open, then, and warn 
all whom you know to be on the look-out for 
Mago’s book.’ That was the last time I saw him. 
.He lived two years longer, and died happy, I 
suppose, because war had been declared against 
Carthage.” 


236 


LOKDS OF THE WORLD 


CHAPTER XXII 

A PLEASURE TRIP 

T HE year drew to its close with a period of inac- 
tion on both sides. The Carthaginians, great- 
ly disheartened by the defeat of the native tribes, 
made no further attempt to assume the offensive. 
They still held Port Nipheris, the Romans not be- 
ing able to spare enough men to invest it. The be- 
siegers, on the other hand, were content to let 
things alone for the present. Time was on their 
side. They added daily to the strength of their 
siege works, and their troops, most of them at their 
first landing raw recruits, were now becoming well- 
seasoned soldiers. A few days before the end of 
the year Scipio left for Rome in order to be present 
at the elections. Nothing was done during his 
absence, but it was understood that on his return 
active operations would be commenced without 
delay. 

On the day after the departure of the commander- 
in-chief, Cleanor received a visit from his physi- 
cian. Latterly these visits had been rare and brief, 
not going beyond a few questions and a short gos- 
sip on the news of the camp. Now, however, the 


A PLEASURE TRIP 


237 


patient was subjected to a close examination. 
When this was completed, the physician shook his 
head. 

“ My young friend,” he said, “you are not mak- 
ing quite the progress I had hoped and expected to 
see. The pulse is weak, I find. You have head- 
aches, you tell me, now and then, and little appe- 
tite. This last is not a good sign. A young man 
like you, when he is really getting well, ought to be 
as hungry as a wolf. On the whole, I think you 
would be the better for a change, and we must con- 
sider how it can be managed.” 

At this point of the conversation Polybius en- 
tered the tent. “Iam not satisfied,” said the phy- 
sician, addressing the new-comer. “ I don’t find 
my young patient making as good a recovery as I 
had hoped, and I have been suggesting a change. 
These are excellent quarters, and every care is 
taken, I know, of our friend, but a camp is not a 
good place for a complete recovery. Somehow the 
presence of a number of men seems to make the air 
somewhat stale.” 

“I am particularly glad to see you,” said Polyb- 
ius, “ for this is exactly the business about which 
I have come. Scipio, who thinks of everybody, and 
forgets nothing, was talking to me about Cleanor 
here the day before yesterday, and the very last 
thing he said to me yesterday when I bade him 


238 


LORDS OF THE WORLD 


good-by on board his galley was, ‘Don’t forget 
the invalid.’ He left the matter, as a whole, to my 
discretion, but his idea was a short trip to Egypt. 
I was to ask your opinion, and if that was favour- 
able, I was to arrange the details. Scipio will be 
away for nearly or quite a month, for there are 
many things to settle in Rome, and of course noth- 
ing of importance will be done during his absence. 
That gives us plenty of time. What do you say, 
doctor \ ” 

“Nothing could be better,” replied the physi- 
cian. “We will say a month. That won’t give 
you much time on shore. But I don’t care about 
that. In fact it is the sea voyage that I count 
upon for putting our young friend right. Still, 
there is plenty to see in Alexandria, even if you 
can’t get any further.” 1 

“That is exactly what I expected to hear,” 
said Polybius. “In fact, I so much took it for 
granted that I have given orders for a galley to 
be ready this evening. So if you don’t object, Cle- 
anor, we will start at once. There is a nice west- 
erly breeze blowing, which we ought not to lose.” 

Cleanor had no objection to make. He was, on 


1 A ship of war, with a first-rate crew of rowers, making a very long day, 
say of fifteen hours, could travel 150 miles. From Carthage to Alexandria, 
by sea, is about 1,100 miles. We must allow not less than ten days each 
way. 


A PLEASURE TRIP 


239 


the contrary, much pleased with the idea. He had 
certainly been feeling somewhat languid, and the 
time was beginning to hang heavy on his hands. 
Besides, what could be more delightful than to see 
Alexandria ? 

A start accordingly was made at sunset. Every- 
thing favoured the voyagers. The wind never 
veered from the west, and though towards evening 
it commonly lulled, it never ceased ; during the 
day it always blew briskly, but never was so strong 
as to cause inconvenience. In consequence the gal- 
ley’s voyage was almost a record, for she reached 
the quay in what was called the Eunostos, or Haven 
of Happy Return, in nine days. The travellers paid 
the customary visit of thanksgiving for a safe voy- 
age to the Temple of Poseidon, and dropped a half 
stater 1 apiece into the chest for offerings. This 
done, they presented a letter of introduction, with 
which Scipio had furnished them, to the official 
who represented Rome in Alexandria, were received 
by him with effusion, and pressed to accept his hos- 
pitality, but preferred the independence of lodg- 
ings of their own. 

Their first visit was, of course, to the great Li- 
brary. This had not at that time reached the enor- 
mous proportions which it attained about a century 
later, when it received, in addition to its own 

1 A gold piece equal to twelve shillings. 


240 


LORDS OF THE WORLD 


wealth, the vast collections of Pergamum , 1 but the 
volumes on its shelves already numbered more than 
a quarter of a million. The two friends could have 
spent months, had months been at their disposal, 
in this wilderness of learning. It was not only the 
multitude of its treasures that astonished them, it 
was the extraordinary value of many of the partic- 
ular volumes. Here the student was permitted to 
inspect, under due safeguards, of course, the actual 
autographs of some of the most famous authors of 
the world. One of the Ptolemies, ironically called 
the Well-doer, had fraudulently possessed himself 
of the originals of iEschylus, Sophocles, and Eurip- 
ides, presenting the Athenian people which owned 
them with copies and a money compensation. His 
successors had followed the same unscrupulous 
policy. Indeed, no valuable manuscript that once 
found its way into Alexandria was ever permitted 
to leave it. 

Adjoining the Library was the Museum, with its 
theatre or great lecture-hall, its smaller lecture- 

1 The Attali of Pergamum, and the Ptolemies of Alexandria, were rivals 
in amassing literary treasures. The house of the Attali became extinct in 
133 B.C., and soon afterwards their kingdom became a Roman province. 
Their library remained at Pergamum till Antony presented it to Cleopatra. 
The word “ parchment” (pergamena) remains as a reminder of its existence 
Skins, of course, had long been used for writing purposes, but the manufact- 
ure was greatly improved under the patronage of the kings of Pergamum. 
The jealousy of the Ptolemies forbade, it is said, the export of paper ( pop \ - 
run) from Alexandria, and parchment had to be used as a substitute. 


A PLEASURE TRIP 


241 


rooms, its dining-hall, and collegiate buildings, clois- 
ters, gardens and park. The two friends wandered 
from room to room, where all comers were welcome 
— the munificent endowments of learning rendered 
all fees unnecessary — and listened to discourses on 
all the subjects of knowledge under the sun. 

There did not happen to be any commanding or 
famous personality among the professors of the 
time, but there was plenty of learning and abun- 
dance of rhetoric, if not of eloquence. A successor 
of Aristarchus discoursed on the criticism of Ho- 
mer, denouncing, for such happened to be the 
subject of the day, the pernicious heresy of the 
Chorizontes , the critics who maintained a diverse 
authorship of the Iliad and the Odyssey. The 
chair of Euclid was occupied by a geometrician 
who had made some additions to the science of trig- 
onometry. In the lecture-room devoted to astron- 
omy they had the good fortune to hear a really 
distinguished man of science, Hipparchus of Bithy- 
nia, who had been invited by the authorities of the 
Museum to give a course of lectures. He had chosen 
for his subject his own great discovery of the pre- 
cession of the equinoxes, made, as he explained, by 
a comparison of his own observations with those of 
earlier astronomers . 1 

1 The backward movement of the equinoctial points along the elliptic. 
A constellation which Hesiod describes as rising sixty days after the spring 
16 


242 


LORDS OF THE WORLD 


As they left the room they were invited by an at- 
tendant, who observed that they were strangers, to 
read an inscription written in letters of gold over 
the principal door. It was the epigram of Apollo- 
nius of Rhodes on the reception of the Hair of 
Berenice among the Constellations. Polybius was 
recognized by one of the professors, who had been 
glad to leave the thankless politics of Greece for a 
quiet competence in this abode of learning, and was 
invited by the professor to take dinner in the great 
banqueting-hall. Cleanor was, of course, included 
in the invitation. The intervening time was spent 
pleasantly enough in inspecting the garden, in which 
the collection of tropical plants, afterwards so 
famous, had been already begun, and in examining, 
what was then a sight peculiar to Alexandria, a 
menagerie. 

Both Polybius and his friend were inclined to 
think that all time not spent in the Library or the 
lecture-room was more or less wasted. Still, there 
were sights which it was impossible for a visitor to 
Alexandria to neglect. Such was the mausoleum 
of the Ptolemies, with the coffin of gold in which 
reposed the remains of the great Alexander ; the 
observatory ; the palace of justice ; and the market, 
thronged with the commerce of the whole of the 


equinox, now rises one hundred days after. The equinox, therefore, lias re- 
ceded by a space equivalent to forty days. 


A PLEASURE TRIP 


243 


civilized world. There were hours, too, when the 
Library was shut, and these were spent in a way 
both amusing and instructive. The two wandered 
through the different regions of the great city, the 
streets inhabited by the Jews, with squalid exteri- 
ors, often concealing palaces fit for kings, and the 
native quarter, crowded with figures and faces that 
might have belonged to long-dead subjects of the 
Pharaohs. Not less interesting than the city were 
the docks and quays. Egypt was already one of 
the great granaries of the world. Loading the wheat 
ships was an emplojunent that provided thousands 
of labourers with sustenance, and at this time, 
thanks to the war, which had thrown out of culti- 
vation the fertile territory of Carthage, the trade 
was particularly brisk. 

Anyhow, the time did not hang heavily on the 
visitors’ hands, and Cleanor could hardly believe 
that ten days had passed when Polybius introduced 
the subject of departure. There was a certain hes- 
itation in the old man’s manner, and Cleanor, who 
had all the quick observation and alert intelligence 
of his race, did not fail to perceive it. 

‘‘This is a delightful place, Cleanor,” he said, 
“and I hope to see it again. Indeed, there are 
books in the Library which I must go through care- 
fully before I give my magnum opus to the world. 
But that must be for the future. Now I have no 


244 


LORDS OF THE WORLD 


choice but to go. We must not allow less than 
twelve days for the return voyage, though, if this 
wind holds, we shall not take so long.” 

“ Yes,” replied Cleanor, “ I am ready to start at 
any time.” 

Polybius hesitated a second before he spoke. 
“Well,” he said, “I don’t think that there is any 
necessity for your coming with me. It is a pity 
that you should not see something more of Egypt 
now you are here. And then there is the question 
of health. It would be a thousand pities that you 
should have anything like a relapse. As for me, I 
must go. Next month, or, at furthest, the month 
after, is likely to see one of the greatest events in 
the history of the West, and it would be folly in 
me, who pretend to be an historian, if, having the 
chance of seeing it with my own eyes, I should fail 
to be present.” 

Cleanor saw in a moment that the whole thing 
had been planned, and that his companion was 
speaking by instruction. But he thought it prudent 
to conceal his knowledge. 

“ Yes,” he said, “ I understand ; but I think that 
I would sooner go back with you.” 

This was put out as a feeler, and it did not fail 
in its object. 

“ I think it must be as I said,” replied Polybius, 
with some hesitation. “To tell you the truth, it 


A PLEASURE TRIP 


245 


was Scipio’s wish that you should remain here, and 
I should not like to go against his wish. The master 
of legions,” he added, with a smile, “ must have his 
own way.” 

“Exactly so,” said the young man, “and I have 
no wish to oppose him.” 

“ Good,” replied Polybius, with evident relief, “ I 
was sure that you would be reasonable, so sure, in 
fact, that I have made arrangements for you to start 
to-morrow on a journey up the Nile. All expenses 
have been paid, and you will have nothing to do 
but enjoy the most wonderful sight in the world. 
There need be no hurry. Take your time and see 
everything at your leisure. The chance may never 
come again. The boat and its crew have been hired 
for three months. When you return you shall find, 
all being well, a letter with instructions awaiting 
you here.” 

“ Well,” said Cleanor, “ I can’t help being sorry 
that you are not coming with me, but the plan is 
a most delightful one. You could not have devised 
anything better.” 

The young man’s real thoughts were quite of 
another kind, though he concealed them with an 
adroitness which would have done credit to a vete- 
ran diplomatist. The fact was that he had been 
haunted for some time past by anxieties with which 
was mingled a certain feeling of self-reproach. 


246 


LORDS OF THE WORLD 


They had scarcely presented themselves, or had 
been readily banished, during the period of his 
weakness and forced inaction. But when health 
was fully restored, and he again felt himself capable 
of action, he could no longer ignore them. 

What had happened, what was likely to happen, 
to his foster-mother and her daughter? To Tlieox- 
ena he was bound by one of the most natural and 
tender of ties. To let her perish, or suffer a fate 
worse than death, would be a shameful failure of 
duty, only less disgraceful than if she had been his 
mother indeed. And her daughter — ? He had 
scarcely thought of the girl at the time, so engross- 
ing had been the anxieties of the moment. But her 
image had been impressed deeply on his memory, 
and even on his heart. He seemed to see her still, 
as she told, with all the simplicity of a child, the 
pitiful story of her kidnapped brother. The large 
pathetic eyes, brimmed with tears, haunted him 
night and day. 

And there came with the thought the memory of 
another face, his sister in blood, lost to him forever. 
Was Fate about to deal him another blow even 
worse than the first? Cleone was dead. Was the 
time coming when the best thing that he could wish 
for Daphne would be that she should be dead also ? 
And was he to be sight-seeing on the Nile, curiously 
speculating on the history of long-past generations, 


A PLEASURE TRIP 


247 


while this awful tragedy of the present was work- 
ing itself out at Carthage ? The thought was mad- 
dening. “No!” he said to himself, “I may not 
be able to do anything to help, but at least I will 
not be taking my pleasure while they are suffering 
torture or death ! ” 

It was, however, necessary to dissimulate. It 
was plain that Scipio was determined to have him 
out of the way when Carthage fell. Nor could any- 
thing, he acknowledged to himself, be more reason- 
able or more kind. Though he could not be sup- 
posed to feel any sense of duty to a state from 
which he had received such treatment, still he might 
well wish not to witness its final catastrophe. Of 
his private feelings the Roman general could have 
no knowledge. 

His only course was to appear to acquiesce in the 
plan. Scipio must undoubtedly have provided for 
the contingency of his resistance. Polybius, he re- 
membered, had introduced the subject with a cer- 
tain hesitation, as if an objection was not impossible. 
He was now, Cleanor trusted, off his guard. A too 
prompt consent might have seemed suspicious. As 
it was, he reflected with satisfaction, he had shown 
exactly the right kind of reluctance. He had ex- 
pressed regret at losing his friend’s company, with- 
out giving a hint of any personal unwillingness to 
accept the plan. 


248 


LORDS OF THE WORLD 


That evening Polybius started on liis return 
voyage. Cleanor was with him to the last moment, 
talking with an admirably simulated gayety and 
interest of the pleasure which lay before him in 
exploring the Egypt of the Pharaohs. 


CHAPTER XXIII 

DIPLOMACY 

T HE Nile boat which had been engaged for 
Cleanor was lying at one of the quays which 
bordered a considerable part of the eastern or city 
shore of Lake Mareotis. The arrangement had been 
that it should start early in the morning of the day 
following the departure of Polybius. But the young 
man purposely delayed his appearance till late in 
the day, and the captain and crew, who had plenty 
of private affairs to occupy them for as long as their 
employers chose to stay, made no complaint. 

It wanted but two or three hours to sunset 
when Cleanor at last presented himself. The cap- 
tain explained that they would not have time that 
day to go further than the mouth of the canal which 
connected the lake with the river Nile. This was 
false. They had plenty of light to make the pas- 


DIPLOMACY 


249 


sage of the canal itself. But the passenger assented 
with an unquestioning alacrity which inspired the 
old rogue who owned the boat with the liveliest 
expectations of a lazy and prosperous voyage. 
Both were, in fact, equally satisfied. The captain 
wanted to do as little as possible, and also contem- 
plated a final carouse at the Canal Tavern, a house 
famous for its wines. The passenger, who had 
made up his mind to leave the boat at the earliest 
opportunity, was glad not to be taken any further 
distance from the city than could be helped. 

As soon as they halted for the night he summoned 
the old captain and had an explanation with him. 
lie began by asking in an indifferent tone the names 
of the chief cities which they were to pass. The 
captain of course had his lesson by heart, and an- 
swered with a long list of places, adding, as he 
mentioned each name, the chief sights for which it 
was famous. 

“And do you particularly wish to see all these 
places again \ ” asked the Greek with a smile. 

The old man stared at him. “ It is my business, 
my lord,” he answered ; “a poor trade, it is true, 
but it was my father’s before me, and his father’s 
too, and so on for I don’t know how many genera- 
tions. I don’ t know why I have stuck to it, for the 
pay is poor, but so I have. It is our way, I sup- 
pose, in Egypt.” 


250 


LORDS OF TIIE WORLD 


4 ‘The pay is poor, you say,” said the Greek; 
“but it would be better if you didn’t go this voy- 
age, and had the pay all the same.” 

“My lord is laughing at his servant,” said the 
captain, staring again with eyes more wide open 
than ever. 

“Not at all ; the fact is that I have no more wish 
to see these places than you have.” 

The captain went on staring. “Then why — ?” 
he began. 

“My friends settled the matter for me; but I 
would sooner stay where I am.” 

“I understand,” said the captain, closing one 
eye entirely, and diminishing the other to its nat- 
ural size. 44 1 understand. You have a friend, a 
young friend, I daresa}q and }^ou don’t think that 
this is a good time for a long voyage.” 

Cleanor saw that the captain had his own ideas 
of what was keeping him in Alexandria, and did 
not care to disabuse him. After all, he reflected, 
he was not quite wrong. He nodded. 

“You are right, my lord. These cities and tem- 
ples and tombs up the river are very fine, but they 
will be just as fine ten, twenty, thirty years hence. 
You can’t say that of youth. It passes, my lord, 
it passes, and you must enjoy it while you can. 
But what am I to say ? I have been paid to take 
you up to Philse, and, if you wish it, as far as the 


DIPLOMACY 


251 


Second Cataract. I signed the agreement before a 
notary. He knows all about it ; other people know 
it. What am I to say when they find me loitering 
about here and your lordship not to be seen ? You 
will hardly believe it, but there are positively peo- 
ple so wicked that they will say I murdered you to 
get the money without making the journey.” 

Cleanor did believe that there were such people, 
and thought to himself that the captain did not 
look altogether like a man to whom such things 
were impossible. 

“ Oh,” said he, “ I will set that all right. I will 
sign a paper before the chief of the village, or any- 
one else that will serve, to say that I was compelled 
by urgent private business, which kept me in Alex- 
andria, to give up my proposed voyage. You will 
be able to show that to anyone who may be curi- 
ous enough to inquire.” 

And this was actually done. The village head- 
man was called on for his services, and witnessed a 
declaration on the part of Cleanor that he released 
the captain of the Sphinx from his contract to carry 
him to Philse and the Second Cataract, and that he 
claimed no compensation or return of the money or 
of any part of it for the non-fulfilment of the con- 
ditions. This done, he made the captain and crew 
a present of a gold piece, and saw with satisfaction 
that they departed to expend it at the Canal Tav- 


252 


LORDS OF THE WORLD 


ern. Shortly afterwards Cleanor hired a small row- 
ing-boat, and before long found himself again in 
Alexandria. 

As to his general plan of operations he was quite 
clear. There was only one plan of getting into Car- 
thage. It was full of risk, but still it was practi- 
cable. A brisk trade was being carried on from 
Alexandria in blockade-running. Corn had long 
been at famine prices in the besieged city. What 
was worth an ounce of silver on an Alexandrian 
quay could be sold for at least half an ounce of 
gold in the markets of Carthage. If only one ship- 
load out of three succeeded in escaping the Roman 
galleys a magnificent profit was realized. The 
average of those ships that ran the blockade was 
not smaller ; it was probably higher. The new har- 
bour-mouth gave, as has been explained, a better 
chance. 

Cleanor, then, was resolved to make his venture 
in a blockade-running corn-ship. The question was, 
what disguise should he use ? Fortune had done 
something for him. The wound in his thigh had 
given him a limp. During his illness a slight beard 
and a fairly thick moustache had grown. These 
things meant a considerable change. More was ef- 
fected by a brown dye which gave him the complex- 
ion of an Arab. The character that he thought it 
best to assume was that of pedlar. He provided 


DIPLOMACY 253 

himself with suitable clothing and a pack, which 
last, however, he left for the present unfilled. 

As Egypt was in alliance with Rome the traders 
that followed the business of blockade-running had 
to affect a certain disguise. The cargoes were con- 
signed to dealers in Italian ports and the ships 
themselves actually shaped their course for Italy, 
and kept on it as long as possible, so as to minimize 
to the utmost the chances of capture. The event of 
a passenger offering himself was rare, for the des- 
tination of this class of corn-ships was an open 
secret. If, however, one chanced to come, the cap- 
tain could hardly refuse a passage. If he was ex- 
ceptionally honest he might put difficulties in the 
way ; commonly he left the stranger to find out his 
mistake, taking the precaution of having the pas- 
sage-money paid in advance. 

Cleanor, who had put up for the night at a little 
tavern close to the water-side, picked up a little in- 
formation from the talk which was going on round 
him. Improving his acquaintance with a sailor, 
who seemed the most respectable of the somewhat 
miscellaneous company at the tavern, he learnt a 
good deal more. Finally his new friend offered to 
introduce him to the captain of the Sea-mew, a 
blockade-runner which was intending to sail the 
following day. 

4 4 Dioscorides,”said the sailor, 44 is an honest man 


254 


LORDS OF THE WORLD 


in liis way. He would have taken your passage- 
money for Rhegium, it is true, and made no scruple 
about carrying you to Carthage. That, you might 
say, is scarcely fair. But then you are quite safe 
with him. He won’t cut your throat and throw 
you overboard for the sake of your pack. That’s 
what I call honesty in a sea-captain. If you want 
to find a finer article, you will hardly get it on this 
side of the Pillars of Hercules. We will go on 
board at the last moment, and I will give him a 
hint that it is all straight.” 

The object of going on board so late was to show 
that the person proposing himself as a passenger 
had no idea of lodging an information against the 
ship with the agent of the Roman Republic. 

On the following day, accordingly, this pro- 
gramme was carried out. The Sea-mew was taking 
on board the water wanted for the voyage, a part of 
the preparations naturally left to the last, when 
Cleanor and his friend reached the quay. A griz- 
zled veteran, whose face was tanned by the suns 
and winds of some fifty years of voyaging, was re- 
ceiving his last instructions from a keen-looking 
man, whose pale and unhealthy-looking skin spoke 
of long confinement to the desk and the counting- 
house. The conference over, Cleanor was intro- 
duced. 

“ My young friend here,” said the sailor, “is 


DIPLOMACY 


255 


going the same way as you are. Cleanor, this is 
Dioscorides, the captain of the Sea-mew. You 
could not sail with a better man ; and you,” he 
went on, turning to the captain, “will find him an 
agreeable and accommodating passenger.” The 
word “accommodating” was emphasized by a wink. 

“ Good ! ” said the captain ; “ come and see your 
quarters. That is the last water-cask, and now we 
are off.” 

He led the way as he spoke to the gang-way that 
connected the quay-side with the deck. In five 
minutes more the Sea-mew was on her way west- 
ward. 

A little after noon, the Sea-mew being now fairly 
started and making good way with a strong breeze 
that was almost dead aft, the captain invited his 
passenger to come below. The cabin was not spa- 
cious — for the vessel, though carrying cargo, was 
built for speed, her owners having had in view the 
more risky kinds of trade — but it was well fur- 
nished, and the meal that was spread on the table 
was almost sumptuous. The captain did not fail to 
observe his passenger’s look of surprise. 

“In this business,” he said, “ a mina or two this 
way or that does not make much odds. It is no 
use to save when you are going either to make your 
fortune or be drowned, or, it may be, hanged.” 

“Possibly,” replied Cleanor; “but a passenger 


256 


LORDS OF THE WORLD 


is nofc in the same case. I am afraid that such 
fare will not suit my modest means.’ ’ 

“Don’t trouble yourself on that score,” returned 
the captain. “ Suppose we say fifty drachmas for 
your passage-money, and ten more as a present to 
the crew, if the voyage turns out to your liking.” 

“I am afraid that you will not gain much by me 
on these terms,” said Cleanor as he produced the 
money, which he had carefully made up out of a 
variety of coins. He thought it safer to avoid any 
appearance of wealth. 

The voyage which followed was prosperous in 
the extreme. A west wind, with just a touch of 
south in it, carried the Sea-mew towards Italy, 
which, as has been said, was nominally her desti- 
nation, with a quite surprising regularity of speed. 
She seldom made more than six miles in the hour, 
but she did this day and night with little variation, 
and without a single drawback. Her course lay 
just within view of the African shore till Cyrene 
was sighted. Then the captain struck a bolder 
course, nor did they come again within sight of 
land till a little object showed itself in the northern 
horizon which was speedily identified as Malta. 
Not long after they spoke a coral -fisher’s boat, 
from which they learnt that a Homan squadron, 
with the commander-in-chief on board, had passed 
a couple of days before. 


DIPLOMACY 


257 


“If that is so,” said the captain, “I shall steer 
straight for Carthage. We are likely to have a 
clear course. It is scarcely likely that the Roman 
cruisers will be prowling about for prizes in the 
wake of their own squadron.” 

As they sat together at their supper, the only 
officer who messed with them having gone on deck 
to superintend the setting of another sail, the cap- 
tain said to Cleanor : 

“ Don’ t suppose that I want to intrude on your 
private affairs, and if my questions are inconven- 
ient, or you have any reason whatever for declining 
to say anything more about yourself, don’t hesitate 
to tell me. I sha’n’t be offended or think the worse 
of you for it. On the other hand, I may be able to 
help you or give you a hint. Now, to be quite 
frank, I can’t make you out. You wish to pass as 
a pedlar — excuse my plainness of speech. Now, 
you are no more a pedlar than I am ; not so much, 
indeed, for you have never, I should say, either 
bought or sold anything in your life. You talk 
like a gentleman. I could not do it myself, but I 
know the real thing when I hear it. Now, what 
does it mean ?” 

Cleanor had been long prepared for some such 
question as this. When he adopted his disguise 
he had vaguely counted on being one among a 
crowd of passengers, and able to keep himself as 
17 


258 


LORDS OF THE WORLD 


mucli in tlie background as he pleased. In such a 
situation he might have sustained his character 
with fair success. But it was a very different thing 
to sit tete-a-tete for a fortnight together with a 
shrewd man of business, who had been accustomed 
to mix with all sorts and conditions of passengers. 
Cleanor had felt from the first that it would be use- 
less to maintain the pretence, and he was prepared 
to abandon it if he should be challenged. But he 
was not prepared to tell his true story. He had 
devised what he could not help thinking a very 
plausible substitute for it. 

“You are quite right, my good friend,” he said, 
“I am not a pedlar. Still, I hope to do a good 
stroke of business in Carthage.” 

“Business!” said the captain, opening his eyes 
wide. “ I fancy this is a poor time for business 
there.” 

“ For buying, doubtless — I suppose they have to 
keep all their money for food — but not for selling. 
That is what I am after. I have had a commission 
from someone whose name I must not mention to 
buy books.” 

“Books!” repeated the old sailor in unfeigned 
astonishment; “who in the world wants to buy 
books ? ” 

“Well,” said Cleanor, “there are people who 
have the taste. There are some very valuable 


DIPLOMACY 


259 


things of tlie kind in Cartilage, taken, most of 
them, from Greek cities in Sicily. My employer 
thought it a good opportunity for picking up some 
bargains, and he has made it worth my while to go. 
You see, books are not like gold and jewels. Most 
people don’t see anything in them. You yourself, 
though you have seen a good deal of the world, 
could not understand anyone buying them. I am 
not likely, you see, to be interfered with.” 

The sailor shrugged his shoulders. 

“Well,” he said, “ everyone to his taste. How- 
ever, now I understand how it is that you don’t 
talk like other pedlars. Good luck go with you ! ” 

The captain was right in supposing that the sea 
would be clear in the wake of the Roman squadron. 
He now matured a very bold design, which wanted 
for its successful accomplishment only one element 
of good fortune, an absolutely favourable wind. 
The Sea-mew was one of the fastest sailers in the 
Mediterranean, and with her own wind, which was 
a point or so off aft, could do what she liked even 
with a well-manned ship of war. The captain’s 
plan was to hang closely, but just out of range, on 
the skirts of the Roman squadron as they neared 
their destination. This he could do without diffi- 
culty. Twenty galleys presented a larger object to 
him than he to them, and he reckoned, with a con- 
fidence that was not misplaced, that they would 


260 


LORDS OF THE WORLD 


not keep a very careful look-out aft. If a solitary 
sail was to heave in sight for a moment it would 
probably attract no attention. 

What was wanted was the right wind, and this, 
to his great joy, he got just when it was wanted. 
The breeze, which for some hours had been due 
north, shifted to w.n.w. The weather thickened a 
little, and to make the lucky combination complete, 
the voyage came to an end a little after nightfall. 
The Sea-mew, which for some hours had been 
keeping, under shelter of the failing light, within 
two miles of the Roman squadron, now came up 
close to the rearward galley. In the preoccupation 
of the time she was practically unobserved. The 
Sea-mew was built almost on war-sliip lines, and 
was flying Roman colours. No one certainly sup- 
posed for a moment that she was an Alexandrian 
blockade-runner. 

Two hours afterwards she was safe in the harbour 
of Carthage, and the captain — he was owner as well 
as master — had realized a handsome fortune. He 
had shipped one hundred and fifty tons of wheat 
and as much barley at Alexandria, the wheat at 
one mina and a half 1 per ton, and the barley for 

1 A mina and a half are equivalent to £5, 5s., eight minas, therefore, to 
£28, and 5 to £17, 10s. This allows, reckoning the weight of wheat at 64 
lbs. per bushel, a buying price of 3s. 3 d. (about) per bushel, and a selling 
price of 17s. for the wheat, and Is. 7% <1- buying, and 11s. selling, for the 
barley. The highest price paid for wheat in England during this century 


IN SORE NEED 


261 


half as much, and he now sold the wheat for eight 
and the barley for five minas per ton. The crew 
had a fourth of the gross profits divided between 
them, but enough was left to enable the captain to 
give up this very perilous kind of business for good 
and all. 

“If I tempt the gods again after this I deserve 
to be crucified,” he said to his chief officer, and he 
kept his word. 


CHAPTER XXIV 


IN SORE NEED 


LEANOR succeeded in landing without attract- 



\J ing, as far as he knew, any observation. He 
lent a hand to the disembarking of the cargo of the 
Sea-mew , and after going to and fro between the 
ship and the warehouse some half-dozen times, 
quietly slipped away. It was now far on towards 

has been 14s. 3d. (1812), and the lowest 2s. 3d. (1895). I will not trouble 
my readers with the figures for the barley. Commonly it was much cheaper 
in proportion to wheat than it is now. (So in Rev. vi. 6, we have “ A meas- 
ure of wheat for a penny , and three measures of barley for a penny f a 
penny being the Roman denarius , or 9 %d.). We may calculate the gross 
profit of the voyage at £6,660 (nearly), taking the mina as equal to £3, 10s. 
3%d., or £5,222 for the captain’s share. The sum entitling a Roman citizen 
to equestrian rank was £4,000. 


262 


LORDS OF THE WOULD 


midnight. The rest of the night he spent in a shed. 
This gave him shelter ; of food he had been careful 
to provide as large a supply as he could conven- 
iently carry. He foresaw an immediate use for it. 

Rising — it cannot be said waking, as he scarcely 
slept during the whole night — as soon as the earliest 
light of dawn made its way into his resting-place, 
he made his way out of the enclosure which sur- 
rounded the docks by an exit which he had observed 
during his sojourn in the city, and had noted for 
possible use in the future. He was still fortunate 
enough not to be seen. 

This done, he soon made his way to the street 
where he remembered the house of his foster-mother, 
Theoxena, to be situated. It was still early morning, 
and but very few persons were about, these being 
almost entirely women, who were fetching water 
from the public fountain at the end of the street. 
He was not long in recognizing among these his 
foster-mother, and it went to his heart to see how 
pale and wasted she looked, and how slowly and 
painfully she moved under the slight burden of the 
pitcher which she carried upon her shoulder. 

He was careful not to betray himself by look or 
movement, for he was anxious to know whether his 
disguise was successful. If her eyes, sharpened by 
a love that was almost as strong as a mother’s, did 
not discover him, he felt that he was safe, and on 


IN SOKE NEED 


263 


this not only his own life but the power to help 
others depended. He passed her slowly, exagger- 
ating a little the limp caused by his lameness. She 
looked at him twice, the second time, he thought, 
with a momentary awakening of interest, which, 
however, died away almost as soon as it appeared. 

And now chance gave him a fully convincing 
proof of how completely she had failed to recognize 
him. At the very moment of his passing she made 
a slight stumble, her feebleness probably causing 
her to drag her feet. The pitcher shook upon her 
shoulder, and was in imminent danger of falling. 
Cleanor caught it with his hand, and steadied it till 
she had recovered herself. She looked at him witli 
a little smile of thanks, murmured a few words of 
acknowledgment of his help, and passed on, in what 
was evidently complete ignorance of his identity. 

This was proof enough for Cleanor. Looking 
round and hastily satisfying himself that there was 
no one near, he murmured “ Theoxena ” She started 
and looked at him, but still without recognition, for 
his voice was disguised. The art of doing this was 
an accomplishment in which he was almost perfect ; 
and, indeed, the most elaborate dressing up of feat- 
ures and figure is of but little avail without the dis- 
guised voice. 

“What, mother Theoxena,” he added in his nat- 
ural tones, “don’t you know your son ? ” 


264 


LORDS OF THE WORLD 


In a moment her face beamed with delighted rec- 
ognition. Pressing his finger on his lips to enjoin 
silence, he stepped up to her door, which, happily, 
was close at hand. Had it taken her more than two 
or three steps to reach it she must have fallen in the 
street. As it was, he had almost to lift her across 
the threshold, and to put her in one of the two chairs 
which formed part of the very scanty furniture of 
the room. Seeing that she wanted help he ventured 
to call out the name of Daphne. 

In a few seconds the girl appeared. She was dress- 
ing, and had been about to bind up her hair when 
she was startled by the sudden call. Her locks — cut 
short, the reader will remember, to furnish the string 
of a bow — had grown enough to fall over her shoul- 
ders, and were even more luxuriant and brilliant than 
ever. But her face was a piteous contrast to their 
splendour — so pale, so wasted, so worn with suffer- 
ing was it. The eyes, which had haunted the young 
man’s memory, looked larger than before, so shrunk 
were her cheeks, and their look was pathetic beyond 
expression. She seemed scarcely to observe the pres- 
ence of a stranger, but flew to her mother’s side and 
busied herself with the task of restoring her to con- 
sciousness. 

When Theoxena began to revive, Cleanor put a 
few drops of a strong cordial wine which he carried 
in a flask between her lips, and had the pleasure of 


IN SORE NEED 


265 


seeing a faint tinge of colour show itself in her 
cheeks. In a few minutes more she was sufficiently 
recovered to sit up. Cleanor would not permit her 
to talk. 

“Not a word,” he said; “you are not strong 
enough yet. You must be satisfied for the present 
with seeing me alive and well. The rest we can 
postpone. Do you think she could eat something ? ” 
he went on, turning to the girl. 

Poor Daphne’s eyes filled with tears. “We have 
nothing in the house, sir,” she said. “We had a 
little crust of rye-bread at noon yesterday, but she 
said that she was not hungry, and made me eat 
nearly all of it.” 

Cleanor was horrified. He had expected to find 
them in great want, but this actual starvation was 
worse than he had looked for. He glanced hastily 
round the room. He had already noticed that it was 
very bare. He now saw that it had been stripped of 
almost everything. Daphne observed his look, and 
explained. 

“We have had to sell nearly all the furniture for 
food, and oh, sir, they give so little for the things ! 
I know that money is very scarce, and the dealers 
are quite besieged with people who want to sell 
their furniture and clothes, but I can’t help think- 
ing that they cheat me because I am a girl and can- 
not help myself. Six days ago I sold mother’s bed 


266 


LORDS OF THE WORLD 


for eight drachmas — I remember her telling me that 
it cost thirty— and the eight were only enough to 
buy two rye-loaves and two anchovies. Poor mother 
does find it so hard to eat the bread alone. These 
lasted us till yesterday. We should have had noth- 
ing but for the old man who lives next door. He 
had a grandson who used to play with our little 
Ceplialus. The dear little boy died about a montli 
ago, and the old man always will make us have 
what he calls the child’s portion. It has been get- 
ting to be very small lately, for the old man’s pen- 
sion is not large, and money buys less and less every 
day. But I don’t know what we should have done 
without it.” 

“Well,” saidCleanor, “you will have me to help 
you now. I suppose, by the way, you remember 
who I am?” 

“Yes, sir,” replied the girl; “it was you that 
were so kind to us about Cephalus.” 

“You ought to have remembered, then, to call 
me not ‘sir’ but brother; or, better still, Cleanor. 
But now about food. This will be better than noth- 
ing for the present.” 

He produced from the pack which he carried some 
twice-baked bread, something like what we call bis- 
cuit, and some strips of dried goat’s flesh. It was 
pitiful to see how the girl tried to hide the eager 
look which would come into her eyes at the sight 



“ CLEANOR PRODUCED FROM THE PACK WHICH HE CARRIED 
SOME TWICE-BAKED BREAD” 


































































































































IN SOKE NEED 


267 


of the food. The elder woman had almost ceased to 
care for life, but youth protests against suffering 
and will make its voice heard. 

The meal was not abundant. Cleanor’ s prudence 
restricted the supply, because he feared the reaction 
after a long period of starvation. When it was fin- 
ished he said, “Now, let us see what is to be done.” 

“We heard you were dead,” began Theoxena — 
“ killed, too, so they said, by our own people. The 
gods be thanked a thousand times that it isn’t 
true ! ” 

“Well,” said Cleanor, “that is past and done 
with. We won’t talk about what other people have 
done or tried to do. Here I am alive, and hoping 
to keep alive in spite of them, and I have come to 
see what I can do for you.” 

“But what do you mean?” cried the woman. 
“Where have you been? Where do you come 
from ? ” 

“Well,” replied Cleanor, “I came from Egypt 
last of all, and before that I was in the Roman 
camp, where I found, I am bound to say, very kind 
friends.” 

“ But have you really come back into this doomed 
c ity_for doomed it certainly is — when you were 
actually safe and among friends outside ? ” 

“Yes, I have, if you must know. And what else 
could Ido? You don’ t suppose I was going to leave 


268 


LORDS OF THE WORLD 


you to perisli here while I was safe and comfortable 
outside ? ” 

“But why ? What claim ? ” 

“Bo you ask me what claim? You are my 
mother, Daphne here is my sister. I have friends, 
and kind friends, too, but you are all the home I 
have. So that is disposed of. I have come back to 
get you safe out of Carthage, and we must consider 
how that is to be done. But before I say anything 
more, how about the little boy ? ” 

“ I have never seen him, but I have heard several 
times — the last time was only four days ago — that 
he is well. Oh ! how can I thank you enough ? ” 

“We’ll talk about thanks another time, dear 
mother,” said Cleanor, with a smile. “We must 
think about the present.” 

“I hear,” said Theoxena, “that everyone is to 
move into the Upper City. Hasdrubal thinks that 
there is no chance of defending the rest. I would as 
soon— I would sooner stop here and die. But you 
see it is not only dying that one has to fear. That 
would be easy enough. We must go ; yet where 
shall we find a corner to hide ourselves in, or a 
crust of bread to eat ? ” 

“ Leave all that to me,” said Cleanor. “ If it can 
be done, I will do it ; and I think,” he added, after 
a moment’s pause, “ I think that I see a way.” 

As he spoke there flashed through his mind the 


IN SO HE NEED 


269 


thought that he might find help where he had found 
it before. If the physician who had served him in 
the matter of the little Cephalus were still alive, no 
more skilful, and, he was sure, no more willing aux- 
iliary could be discovered. 

“ Wait,” he said to Theoxena, “you and Daphne, 
where you are, and don’ t show yourselves more than 
you can help. Will the provisions I have here serve 
you for a day or so ? ” And he emptied the contents 
of his pack upon the table. 

The woman smiled. She and Daphne had con- 
trived to live for not a few days upon far less. 

“ Yes, it is abundance.” 

“Till to-morrow, then,” cried the young man with 
a gayety which he did not feel. If the physician 
should be unable to help, or should have died ! 

Happily this misfortune was spared him. Cleanor 
found the man, and, thanks to his knowledge of his 
habits, without loss of time. It was still an hour 
short of noon when he saw the leech coming out of 
a casement in the wall, which he was accustomed to 
visit at that hour for the purpose of inspecting the 
newly wounded. 

“This is a good sight,” cried the physician. 
“ What iEsculapius has brought you back from the 
dead ? They told me that you were killed, and I 
feared that they had only too good reason for know- 
ing that it was true.” 


270 


LORDS OF THE WORLD 


“ That,” said the Greek, “ is a long story, and will 
keep. As usual, I want your help.” 

“You are not ill?— no, I have never seen you 
look better. What is it ? ” 

Cleanor told him his story. 

The physician looked grave, and after a pause he 
said : “You are wanting for your two friends what 
a couple of hundred thousands of people in this city 
are wanting — a safe place of shelter. Yet it can be 
found ; all things can be found, if one knows where 
to look for them. But it will be costly, very costly.” 
And he looked inquisitively at the young Greek, 
who certainly, in his pedlar’s dress, did not look as 
if he had the command of boundless wealth. 

Cleanor understood the look, and whispered a few 
words in the old man’s ear. 

“That is capital,” he said, with an admiring 
glance. “You are certainly a young man of busi- 
ness.” 

Cleanor had, in fact, brought with him, in view of 
any possible necessities that might arise, an ample 
supply of means in the most portable, and there- 
fore most valuable form that wealth under the cir- 
cumstances of the time could possibly bear. Gold, 
precious as it is, is not very portable. A really 
wealthy man would require a whole caravan to 
transport his fortune from one place to another if 
it were in the shape of gold. Paper money— for 


IN SORE NEED 


271 


the ancient world did business by bills of exchange 
very much as we do — was not available. The com- 
mercial credit of Carthage had collapsed forever. 

The one readily available vehicle for wealth was 
precious stones. These had risen in Carthage to an 
almost incredible price. Sooner or later, everyone 
felt, the city would be taken. When that should 
happen, gold would be almost useless. The one 
chance of preserving it, and that but a slight one, 
would be to bury it. That might hide it from the 
enemy, but might very probably also hide it from 
the owner. Jewels, on the other hand, could be 
carried anyhow. If a man could contrive to escape 
at all, he could also contrive to escape with a fort- 
une so invested about him. Cleanor, accordingly, 
was now utilizing this part of the old king’s bounty. 
He carried round his waist, next to his skin, a 
slender girdle- purse in which he had stored a num- 
ber of jewels. This he was resolved not to lose 
except with his life. While he kept this, he felt 
that he could do any thing that money could accom- 
plish. 

“ Come home with me,” said the physician, “and 
talk this matter over. You are best out of sight, 
for someone might recognize you in spite of your 
disguise, and that would be very awkward indeed.” 


272 


LORDS OF THE WORLD 


CHAPTER XXV 

A REFUGE IN THE STORM 
OU have the necessary means, I understand,” 



JL said the physician to Cleanor, when the two 
were seated together safe from interruption. “Now 
for my plan. The only safe hiding-place will be 
one of the temples. Now, there are three temples 
which would answer our purpose, I mean three that 
would be specially suitable on account of the num- 
ber of private apartments which are attached to 
them. There is iEsculapius in the citadel, Apollo 
in the arsenal, and Baal-Hammon in the Upper 
City ; but that, of course, you know. On the 
whole, I am inclined to Apollo in the arsenal, and 
I will tell you why. iEsculapius is the strongest 
place in Carthage, and it is there that the last stand 
will be made. There are some desperate men who 
will hold on to the last extremity, and perish rather 
than surrender. There are some of the old nobles 
who are too proud to live under the rule of Rome, 
and there are the deserters, who know that pardon 
is impossible. Hasdrubal himself gives out that he 
intends to cast in his lot with them, but I doubt 
him ; he is a cur. Now, I know as a matter of fact 
that preparations have been made for holding 


A REFUGE IN THE STORM 


273 


iEsculapius as long as possible. And when it be- 
comes impossible, then it will be destroyed. I 
know these Carthaginians. Drive them to extremi r 
ties, and they will behave as the scorpion between 
two fires. Clearly, then, iEsculapius is not the 
place for non-combatants. Then at Baal-Hammon 
there are too many priests, and they are a bad lot. 
That fellow whom you bribed about the little boy 
was very useful to you, but then he is a great 
scoundrel. In that matter you could trust him, be- 
cause he had put his own neck in the noose ; but in 
this yon could not. You see he might easily make 
double gain out of it — a heavy sum from you for 
keeping your friends safe, and another sum for sell- 
ing them to the Romans. No, you had better have 
nothing to do with Baal-Hammon and its crew. 
Then there remains Apollo in the arsenal. There 
are only two priests there. There’s the old man, 
who is almost in his dotage, and the son, who is a 
decent fellow with a really excellent wife. He is 
not above taking money, but he will not be extor- 
tionate. She — poor woman, she has just lost her 
only child — would take in your friends out of pure 
kindness. Anyhow, she will do her best for them. 
You had better leave the matter to me, for the 
less you are seen, the better. Now, what do you 
say ? ” 

“I am only too glad,” said Clean or, “to leave 
18 


274 


LORDS OF THE WORLD 


the matter in your hands. How much money will 
be wanted, do you think ? ” 

“It can hardly be less than two hundred gold 
pieces,” replied the physician. 

“These,” said Cleanor, as he produced some 
rubies and emeralds, with a rose diamond, small, 
but of peculiarly brilliant lustre, “ have been valued 
at a talent 1 by a very good judge. Your friend the 
priest will get, if he wishes it, another opinion as to 
their value, but I feel sure that the price is not too 
high. That is what was actually offered me as a 
first bid by Raphael, the first jeweller in Alexandria, 
and, as you know, a man does not offer his highest 
price in his first bid.” 

“A talent ! ” said the physician, who was himself 
something of a connoisseur in precious stones, and 
had been examining them with obvious admiration. 
“ A talent, indeed ! Unconscionable scoundrel ! He 
ought to have said three: This diamond alone is 
worth a talent, and more too. Well, I will see to 
the affair at once, for there is no time to be lost. 
You stop here, and make yourself at home.” 

About noon the physician reappeared. “Every- 
thing is settled,” he said. “I have saved your 
diamond for you. It was really too much to give. 
The rubies and emeralds were quite sufficient. 
Mago— that is the younger priest’s name — is a good 

1 An Attic talent, worth, by weight of silver, about £225. 


A REFUGE IN THE STORM 


275 


judge of jewels, and was quite satisfied. You are 
to meet him to-night at the upper end of the street 
where your friends live, and take him to their 
house, and introduce him. He will take the women 
in charge, and conduct them to the temple. He has 
the means of getting them through one of the arse- 
nal gates without any questions being asked. I am 
to hand over the price to-morrow, when the first 
part of the business shall have been finished. For 
the rest you must trust him. Indeed, you have no 
other choice ; but he is not a bad fellow, and, as I 
said, his wife is absolutely loyal.” 

By midnight Theoxena and Daphne were safely 
lodged in a little chamber adjoining that occupied 
by the priest and his wife. 

The change was not effected a day too soon. 
Early on the following morning the Homan armies 
were seen to be in motion, and peremptory orders 
were issued that the Lower City was to be evacu- 
ated. Many of the inhabitants had anticipated it, 
and had found such shelter as they could in the 
Upper City. But thousands had lingered behind, 
hoping against hope that the change might be 
avoided, or simply paralysed by despair. Destitute 
as many of them were, both of means and friends, 
they stayed only because it was easier to stay than 
to move. 

Even now some doggedly remained behind. The 


276 


LORDS OF THE WORLD 


troops liad instructions to drive them out by force, 
and they attempted for a time to carry out this 
order. But they were met with a passive resist- 
ance that baffled them. Some would not, some 
could not be stirred from the homes to which they 
were accustomed, and which at least afforded them 
a present shelter. 

Still, there was an overpowering rush of panic- 
stricken fugitives. The streets leading to the Upper 
City were crowded up to and beyond the utmost 
limit of their capacity. At the gates the press was 
something terrible. All night long the human 
stream flowed ceaselessly on ; when the morning 
broke it was still dense and strong. Scipio, fully 
aware that the helpless crowd would be a source of 
weakness rather than strength to the besieged, had 
strictly forbidden pursuit. But for this fact, any 
number might have been killed or captured. 

Still, the arsenal itself was not to remain long 
undisturbed. To abandon it to the besiegers was 
to acknowledge that the fall of the whole city was 
only a question of time, for this sufficient reason, if 
for no other, that no fresh supplies could possibly 
be introduced. Up to this time a certain amount 
of food had been brought in, as we have seen in 
the case of the Sea-mew . The supply was small 
and irregular, but it had been sufficient to replenish 
the stores of the garrison. Now and then some- 


A REFUGE IN THE STORM 


277 


thing had been spared for the wants of the general 
population. All this would come to an end when 
the port fell into the hands of the enemy. 

But Hasdrubal had really no choice. He could 
not hope to defend the fortifications of the arsenal 
with the forces at his command. He had to con- 
centrate his strength within the smaller compass of 
the Upper City. Accordingly, in the night follow- 
ing the abandonment of the Lower City, the arsenal 
was evacuated by its garrison. The last detach- 
ment to leave was instructed to set the stores on 
fire. Nor was this done an hour too soon. The 
necessity which constrained the Carthaginian com- 
mander to this course of action had not escaped the 
notice of Scipio. Lselius, the ablest of his lieuten- 
ants, was making his way into the arsenal — which 
he found, somewhat to his surprise, undefended — at 
the very time when the garrison was leaving it at 
the opposite end. 

The physician was too busy with his work to pay 
much attention to military affairs, and Cleanor hav- 
ing accomplished, as far as was possible for the 
present, the purpose for which he had returned to 
Carthage, did not risk recognition and capture by 
venturing out of doors. It was with surprise, there- 
fore, as well'as dismay, that he learned what had 
happened. The first thing that he saw on looking 
out of his window the following morning was the 


278 


LORDS OF THE WORLD 


area of the arsenal swarming with Roman soldiers. 
Some were endeavouring, under the direction of 
their officers, to quench the flames in the store- 
houses ; not a few, it was easy to see, were busy in 
collecting plunder ; the Temple of Apollo was evi- 
dently one of the chief objects of attraction. 

It was an anxious moment for Cleanor, but if he 
could have seen what was going on in the temple, 
he would almost have despaired of the safety of 
Theoxena and her daughter. The fact was that the 
Roman soldiery, for all the strictness of discipline 
to which it had been habituated by Scipio, was for 
the time completely out of hand. The siege had 
been long and tedious, and the perils, so far, out of 
all proportion to the prizes. And now, almost for 
the first time for three years, these men, starving, so 
to speak, for booty, found themselves within reach 
of what seemed enormous wealth. 

In the centre of the temple stood a figure of 
Apollo, about double the size of life. It had the 
appearance of being of gold ; in truth, it w r as of 
wood, covered with massive plates of gold. The 
throne on which it was seated, the lattice- work on 
either side, and the canopy above its head were of 
the same metal, and these were absolutely solid. 
The weight of the whole was afterwards reckoned 
at about two hundred and fifty of our tons. Possi- 
bly this was an exaggeration ; but the treasure was 


A REFUGE IN THE STORM 


279 


unquestionably very large. So large, indeed, was 
it that the first impression of the soldiers when they 
burst into the shrine was that the whole was of 
some base metal gilded. 

Then the discovery was made. A Roman in mere 
mischief aimed a blow with his sword at the trellis- 
work which surrounded the statue. Picking up the 
fragment which he had thus lopped off, more in 
curiosity than with any definite expectation of 
finding treasure, he was astonished by its weight. 
Then the truth dawned upon him. 

“ By Pollux ! ” he cried, “ it must be gold.” 

The scene which followed was one new to Roman 
experience. All Rome, it might almost be said all 
Italy, hardly contained so much treasure. Since 
the day when the soldiers of Alexander burst into 
the treasury of Persepolis, and saw what the wealth- 
iest monarchy of the world had been accumulating 
for centuries, such a sight had never met human 
eyes. It overpowered the solid strength of Roman 
discipline ; with a frantic cry the men precipitated 
themselves on the spoil. The centurions, who with 
the instinct of command endeavoured to keep them 
back, were thrust roughly aside. One of them, who 
ventured to use the vine cudgel which he carried 
by way of enforcing his orders, was levelled to the 
ground by a blow of the fist. The tribune in com- 
mand of the detachment, when he ventured to in- 


280 


LORDS OF THE WORLD 


terfere, met with no more respect. In less than half 
an hour the statue was stripped of its costly cover- 
ing, and the shrine was hacked to pieces. 

Then the strange passion of destruction, which 
seems always to follow close after any great muti- 
nous outbreak, seized upon the men. Possibly they 
were carried away by a frantic desire to abolish the 
very scene of their offence. Anyhow, the temple 
was for a few minutes in the most imminent danger 
of being burned. A soldier thrust a torch into the 
fire which was burning near the great central altar, 
and threw it all blazing among the curtains which 
covered one of the walls. 

At this critical moment Scipio himself appeared 
upon the scene. His presence seemed to recall the 
frantic soldiery to themselves. His first care was to 
see that the fire was extinguished. With the plunder 
he did not at the moment attempt to deal ; he re- 
served that matter for a cooler moment. It was one 
of the secrets of his success that he never strained 
his power. But order was restored and firmly en- 
forced. A guard was put in charge of the building. 
This was to be changed at fixed intervals. It was 
to have, meanwhile, its full share of all prize-money 
that might be earned on exactly the same scale as 
actual combatants. After this the temple and its 
inmates were as safe as any place or persons could 
be at such a time. 


THE STORMING OF THE UPPER CITY 


281 


CHAPTER XXVI 

THE STORMING OF THE UPPER CITY 

T HE actual fortifications of the Upper City did 
not offer any serious resistance to the assailants. 
They were of extreme antiquity, and were not only 
greatly decayed, but were inadequate to meet, even 
had they been in the best condition, the improved 
methods of attack which had been introduced since 
the time of their erection. Some attempt had been 
made to put them into repair within the last few 
months, but to very little purpose. Nothing short 
of a complete reconstruction would have been of any 
practical use. The Roman battering-rams had not 
been at work for a day before it became evident 
that several breaches would speedily be made in the 
walls. In fact, so many weak spots had been re- 
vealed, that even the most determined and powerful 
garrison could not have hoped to make them all 
good. In the course of the night the whole line was 
evacuated. 

Still, Carthage was not to be taken without a des- 
perate struggle. Twice already had her mother-city 
Tyre defended herself with fury against assailants 
of overwhelming strength , 1 and the world was to see 

1 Against Nebuchadnezzar in 598 B.C. , and against Alexander in 331. 


282 


LORDS OF THE WORLD 


a still more terrible scene of rage and madness some 
two centuries later, when the Hebrew people de- 
fended its last stronghold, Jerusalem, against the 
legions of Rome. The Carthaginians were now to 
show themselves not unworthy of these famous 
kinsfolk. 

The Upper City was penetrated by three streets, 
all of them built on steep inclines, and converging 
on the summit of the hill. On this the citadel stood, 
itself crowned by the famous Temple of iEscula- 
pius. This was built on a rock, three sides of which 
displayed a sheer descent of some sixty feet, while 
the fourth was ascended by a long flight of steps. 
The three streets were built to suit the oriental 
taste, perhaps we should rather say the oriental 
need, which prefers shade to the circulation of air 
and light. They were so narrow that the inhabi- 
tants of opposite houses — the houses commonly in- 
clined outward — could almost shake hands from 
their windows. The houses were not of equal 
height, but they were all lofty, sometimes having 
as many as seven or eight stories. At the back of 
these main thoroughfares was a wilderness of lanes 
and alleys, consisting for the most part of smaller 
houses, with now and then a paved yard or small 
garden. 

Up these streets the Romans had to force their 
way. Almost every house was a fortress which had 


THE STORMING OF THE UPPER CITY 


283 


to be separately attacked and separately taken. 
The first danger that had to be encountered was a 
shower of tiles and bricks from the roofs and upper 
stories. These missiles, heavy themselves, and fall- 
ing with tremendous force from the lofty buildings, 
would have been terribly destructive, had not the 
assailants protected themselves by the formation of 
the testudo or tortoise. This was made by the men 
ranging their shields over their heads in a close im- 
penetrable array, under cover of which they broke 
down the doors of house after house. Sometimes 
even the testudo reeled under the shock of some 
more than usually heavy mass ; more than once it 
was actually broken when the defending party con- 
trived to detach and send down upon it the whole 
of a parapet. Whenever this happened no small 
loss of life was the result. 

When an entrance had been forced into the house, 
every story became the scene of a fresh conflict. 
Driven at last to the roof, the defenders would 
sometimes prefer to hurl themselves down to the 
street below rather than fall into the hands of the 
enemy. Some would take a desperate leap across 
the space that separated them from the houses op- 
posite ; others crossed on bridges of planks or 
doors which they hastily made, or, in some cases, 
had prepared in anticipation. 

It is needless to say that a conflict of such a kind 


284 


LORDS OF THE WORLD 


was fouglit with the greatest ferocity. It was a 
struggle, for the most part, between a people and 
an army. The inhabitants, seldom, if ever, pro- 
tected by armour and furnished with the weapons 
that chance supplied, often, indeed, reduced to 
nothing more effective than sticks or household im- 
plements, fought desperately against well-protected, 
well-armed, well-disciplined men. The women were 
even more frenzied than the men. Driven to bay, 
they flew like wild-cats at the Romans, and bit and 
scratched till they were slain or disabled. There 
was no question of quarter ; it was not even asked. 
The assailants, as the} 7 slowly advanced, winning 
their way yard by yard, left a lifeless desolation be- 
hind them, with the dead lying as they had fallen, 
on every staircase and in every chamber. 

This battle of the streets lasted with unabated 
fury for six days. The besiegers, of course, fought 
in relays ; there were three detachments, and each 
had its regular time of service, four hours twice in 
the day, for of course no cessation of the attack was 
possible. One man allowed himself no rest, and 
this one man was Scipio. During the whole of the 
six days he never slept, or, at least, never composed 
himself to sleep, for nature would sometimes assert 
itself, untiring as was the spirit which dominated 
his physical frame, and he could not help a brief 
slumber as he sat at his meals. These he took as 


THE STORMING OF THE UPPER CITY 285 

cliance gave him the opportunity. They were hur- 
ried repasts of the simplest kind — a piece of dried 
flesh, a crust of bread, or a biscuit, with now and 
then a bunch of raisins. His drink was rigidly 
limited to water, for in battle he always acted on 
the principle which made Hector refuse the wine- 
cup which his mother proffered him in an interval 
of battle . 1 

At sunset on the sixth day the Upper City was 
practically held by the Romans. Nothing but the 
citadel remained to be taken, and that was so ar- 
duous an undertaking that the attack was neces- 
sarily postponed till the troops had had some rest. 

But the spirit of the Carthaginians was at last 
broken. Just as the troops told off for the first 
assault had finished mustering, and before the 
trumpets had sounded the signal for the advance, a 
procession, headed by a herald who carried a flag of 
truce in his hand, was seen to be descending the 
steps that led from the Temple of iEsculapius. Lost 
to sight for a short time as it came under cover of 
the outer wall of the citadel, it next became visible 
as it issued from one of the gates. Scipio, who was 
about to address his troops, went forward to meet 

» “ ‘ Far hence be Bacchus’ gifts,’ the chief rejoined ; 

* Inflaming wine, pernicious to mankind, 

Unnerves the limbs, and dulls the noble mind.’” 

— Iliad (Pope), vi. 


286 


LORDS OF THE WORLD 


the new-comers. Their leader, whose style and title 
were given by the herald as chief priest of the Tem- 
ple of iEsculapius, addressed him, his words being 
interpreted by a Roman prisoner. 

“Leader of the armies of Rome,” so ran the 
speech, “ the gods have given thy country the final 
victory over her rival. Four centuries ago Rome 
felt it to be an honour to be acknowledged by Car- 
thage as an ally on equal terms . 1 Since then there 
has been continued rivalry and frequent war be- 
tween the two nations. More than once it has 
seemed likely that the Fates had decreed that the 
seat of empire should be in Africa rather than in 
Italy. But this was not their will. We have long 
been convinced that we were not to rule ; we now 
perceive that we are not even to be permitted to 
exist. But though it is necessary for the honour, if 
not for the safety, of Rome, that Carthage should 
be destroyed, it is not necessary that a multitude of 
innocent persons, whose sole offence is to have been 
born within the walls of a doomed city, should also 
perish. There are some, a few thousands out of 
many, who have, it is true, committed the offence of 
defending their country ; these also implore your 
mercy. That they can resist your attack they ac- 
knowledge to be impossible ; but they can at least 
claim this merit, that by a prompt surrender they 

1 A treaty was made between Rome and Carthage in the year 509 B. C. 


THE STORMING OF THE UPPER CITY 287 

will save the lives of some of your soldiers. Your 
nation, man of Rome, has been ready beyond all 
others to show mercy to the conquered, and your 
family, Scipio, has been conspicuous in this as in 
all other virtues. Be worthy, we beseech you, of 
your country, your house, and yourself.’ ’ 

It was without a moment’s hesitation that Scipio 
replied to this harangue. Nor had he to use the 
services of an interpreter. With that indefatigable 
energy which distinguished him he had employed 
the scanty leisure allowed by his duties to learn the 
Carthaginian language, of which at the beginning 
of the siege he had been as ignorant as were the rest 
of his countrymen. 

“ I will not use many words, for time presses, and 
there is much to be done. The multitude of un- 
armed persons may come forth without fear. Their 
lives are assured to them. Nor do we bear any en- 
mity against brave men who have fought against 
us. They shall not be harmed. I except only from 
my offer of mercy those who have betrayed their 
country by deserting it.” 

The answer had scarcely been spoken before a 
huge multitude, to whom its purport had probably 
been communicated by some preconcerted signal, 
poured out from the gates. Seldom has a more 
piteous sight been seen. With faces wan with 
famine, and clothed, for the most part, in squalid 


288 


LORDS OF THE WORLD 


rags, the long lines of old men, women, and children 
defiled before the Roman general as he stood sur- 
rounded by his staff. True to his gentle and kindly 
nature, he busied himself in making provision for 
their immediate wants. The whole number — there 
were fifty thousand in all, a great crowd, it is true, 
but pitiably small in comparison with the supposed 
total of non-combatants when the siege began— was 
divided into companies, each of which was assigned 
to the commissariat department of one or other of 
the legions. At the same time instructions were 
given to the officers in charge of the stores that their 
immediate necessities — and many of them were act- 
ually starving— should be relieved. 

The non-combatants thus disposed of, the soldiers 
that had surrendered followed. There may have 
been some six thousand in all, of whom five-sixths 
were mercenaries, one - sixth only native Cartha- 
ginians. They were in much better case than the 
rest of the population ; in fact, as far as provisions 
were concerned, they had not been subjected to any 
hardship. The mercenaries had, for the most part, 
an indifferent look. It was depressing, doubtless, 
to have been serving for now three years an unsuc- 
cessful master, and to have missed the good pay 
which they might have earned elsewhere. But this 
was one of the chances of their profession, and they 
might hope to recoup themselves for their loss by 


THE STORMING OF THE UPPER CITY 289 

another and more fortunate speculation. The Car- 
thaginian minority were in a different temper. 
There was no future for them. Their country was 
gone, and if the love of life, which asserts itself even 
over the fiercest and bitterest pride, had bent their 
haughty temper to supplicate for mercy, it could do 
nothing more. Each man as he passed in front of 
the general laid down his arms upon the ground. 
These, again, were piled in heaps, to be carried off 
in due time to the stores in the Roman camp. 

This business was just completed when a solitary 
figure was seen to issue from one of the gates in the 
citadel walls, and hurriedly to approach the Roman 
lines. As he ran he was struck by a missile from 
the walls. The blow levelled him to the ground, 
but he regained his feet in the course of one or two 
minutes, and hastened on, though with a somewhat 
limping gait. It was observed that he was dressed 
as a slave, and, as he came nearer, that his face was 
so closely muffled that his features could not be 
recognized. Nevertheless, his figure, which was 
short and corpulent, seemed to many to be familiar. 
Reaching the Roman lines, he threw himself at 
Scipio’s feet, caught him by the knees, and in 
broken Greek begged for his life. The general, 
stretching forth his hand, raised him from the 
ground. It was Hasdrubal, the commander-in-chief 
of the armies of Carthage. 

19 


290 


LORDS OF THE WORLD 


A murmur of disgust at Ins poltroonery ran 
through the ranks. Here and there the kinsmen or 
comrades of the unhappy prisoners whom he had 
done to death in so barbarous a fashion a few months 
before, gave vent to more menacing expressions of 
anger. Scipio silenced these manifestations of 
feeling by an imperative gesture of command. 

“Your life is spared,” he said. “See that you 
make a due return for the boon.” 

It must not be supposed that the Roman general 
was disposed to regard with any kind of leniency 
Hasdrubal’s baseness and barbarity. It was from 
policy that he spared the miserable creature’s life. 
In the first place, it was the custom, from which it 
would be injudicious to depart, to make the king or 
chief general of a conquered people an essential part 
of the triumph which would celebrate the victory. 
Secondly, he was aware that the prisoner would be 
useful in many ways, that there were important 
matters about which he could give the best, or, it 
might be, the only available information. 

As to the boon of life, it seemed to his own noble 
nature to be a very small thing indeed. For him- 
self he felt that, had such a situation been possible, 
he would far sooner have died than survived to face 
such shame and ignominy ; the craven clinging to 
life which dominates such mean natures as Has- 
drubal’s was simply incomprehensible to Scipio. 


THE STORMING OF THE UPPER CITY 291 

But if he despised Hasdrubal while he spared him, 
there were others among the Carthaginian leaders 
for whom he felt a genuine admiration and respect, 
and to whom he was willing to offer honourable 
terms of surrender. 

“Where,” he asked Hasdrubal, “are your col- 
leagues in command, and the chief magistrates?” 

“ They are in the Temple of iEsculapius,” replied 
the Carthaginian. 

“ Think you that they will be willing to surren- 
der ? They are brave men, and have done their best, 
and they shall be honourably treated.” 

“ I know not what they intend,” muttered the 
fugitive, with as much shame as it was in his nature 
to feel. 

“I will at least try them,” said Scipio, and he 
advanced towards the citadel, followed by some of 
his staff. Hasdrubal, much against his will, was 
constrained to accompany them. 

A number of figures could be seen on the roof of 
the temple, which, as has been explained, formed the 
summit of the citadel. As soon as he came within 
ear-shot of the place he bade one of the prisoners 
step forward and communicate his ultimatum to 
what may be called the garrison of the temple. 

“ Scipio offers to all free-born Carthaginian citi- 
zens, life on honourable terms. To all those who 


292 


LORDS OF THE WORLD 


have deserted he promises a fair trial , so that if 
they can show any just cause for having left their 
country , even they may not despair of safety .” 

To this appeal no answer was made. After a 
while, as Scipio and his attendants waited for a re- 
ply, thin curls of smoke were seen to rise from the 
temple. Next a woman, leading a young boy by 
either hand, approached the edge of the roof. She 
was clothed in a flowing robe of crimson, confined 
at the waist by a broad golden girdle. Her long 
hair, which streamed far below her waist, was bound 
round her temples by a circlet of diamonds that 
flashed splendidly in the sun. 

“By Baal,” cried the Carthaginian prisoner who 
delivered Scipio’ s message, “it is the Lady Sal am o 
herself.” 

“ Who is it, say you ? ” asked Scipio. 

“The Lady Salamo,” answered the man, “the 
wife of my lord the general.” 

It was indeed the wife of Hasdrubal. 

“Man of Rome,” she began in a clear, penetrat- 
ing voice, which made itself heard far and wide, 
addressing herself to Scipio, who was conspicuous 
in the scarlet cloak worn by generals commanding 
armies, “man of Rome, to thee there comes no 
blame from gods or men. Carthage was the enemy 
of your country, and thou hast conquered it. But 



THE LADY SALAMO DEFIES THE ROMANS FROM THE 
WALLS OF CARTHAGE 






















































































, 

































THE STORMING OF THE UPPER CITY 293 

on this Hasdrubal, this traitor who hath been false 
to his fatherland, to his gods, to me — whose shame 
it is to have been his wife — and to his children, 
may the gods of Carthage wreak their vengeance ! 
And thou, Scipio, I charge thee, fail not to be their 
instrument.” 

She then turned to Hasdrubal. 

“Villain,” she cried, “and liar, and coward, as 
for me and these children, we shall find a fit burial 
in this fire ; ” and as she spoke a great flame sprung 
up for a moment among the gathering clouds of 
smoke; “but thou, that wast the chiefest man in 
Carthage, what dishonourable grave wilt thou find ? 
This only I know, that neither thy children nor I 
will live to see thy disgrace.” 

Turning from the wretched man with a gesture of 
contempt, she drew a dagger from her girdle and 
plunged it into the heart first of one and then of 
the other of the two children who stood at her side. 
Then flinging the bloody weapon from her, she leapt 
into the midst of the flames, which by this time 
were rapidly gaining the mastery over the whole 
building. All her companions shared her fate. The 
Carthaginian nobles were too proud to live under 
the sway of Rome ; the deserters were conscious of 
their guilt, or distrusted the justice of a Roman 
tribunal. Anyhow, not a single individual out of 
the desperate band to which Scipio had addressed 


294 


LORDS OF THE WORLD 


his appeal availed himself of the opportunity. The 
Temple of iEsculapius perished with all its inmates ; 
and along with it was lost to Rome and to the world 
a vast treasury of wealth. 


CHAPTER XXVII 

A PRECIOUS BOOK 

I T is time to explain what had happened to Cleanor 
while the events recorded in the last chapter 
were proceeding. He had remained within the 
physician’s house during the six days’ fighting in 
the streets. The house had been turned into some- 
thing like a hospital, and the young Greek found 
plenty of employment in doing such services as a 
lay hand could render to his host's patients. The 
physician was naturally one of the deputation 
which, as has been described, waited on the con- 
queror on the morning of the seventh day, and he 
took his guest with him in the character of his as- 
sistant. Nor could Cleanor escape an emotion of 
relief to find himself again under Roman protection. 
It was a curious change from the feelings that had 
dominated him a few months before, but the con- 
straining power of circumstances had been too much 


A PRECIOUS BOOK 


295 


for him. His first care was to ascertain the fate of 
Theoxena and her daughter. Here it was necessary 
to proceed with caution. It would not be wise to 
make inquiries at random. The person whom he 
could most safely trust was Scipio, the young of- 
ficer, whom he was, of course, anxious to see for 
other reasons. To his great delight he found that 
his friend was the officer in command of the guard 
to which the safety of the Temple of Apollo in the 
arsenal had been committed. He found an oppor- 
tunity of sending a message by a soldier who hap- 
pened to be off duty for the time. Hardly an hour 
had elapsed when he received an answer. It ran 
thus : 

“A thousand congratulations . We had almost 
given you up for lost , only that the gods are mani- 
festly determined to make up to you for some part 
at least of what you have suffered. Come at once : 
I have much to say to you .” 

The meeting between the two friends was very 
affectionate. Cleanor, postponing the narrative of 
his own adventures to some future opportunity, at 
once took the young Roman officer into his confi- 
dence. 

4 4 You may rest assured that your friends are 
safe. There has been a guard over the private 
apartments attached to the temple ; and I have 


296 


LORDS OF THE WORLD 


taken care to have trustworthy men, as I always 
should in such a case. But I can tell you that your 
friends have had a very narrow escape. If the gen- 
eral had not arrived just at the right time, the whole 
building would have been reduced to ashes.” 

He then proceeded to relate the story which the 
reader has already heard. Cleanor listened with 
emotion that he could hardly conceal. How nearly 
had all his efforts been in vain ! How narrowly had 
these two — who were all that remained to him of 
his old life — escaped destruction ! 

Young Scipio’s narrative was hardly finished when 
the conversation of the friends was interrupted by 
the arrival of an orderly bringing a message from 
the general. The official despatch, accompanied 
by a letter expressed in more familiar terms, ran 
thus : 

“ I have learnt that a manuscript of the very 
highest value , which I have a special charge from 
the Senate and People of Rome to preserve , to wit , 
the Treatise of Hanno on Agriculture , has always 
been and is now in the custody of the priests of 
Apollo in the arsenal. I commission you , there- 
fore, as officer commanding the guard of the said 
temple , to make inquiries of these same priests, and 
to take the book into your keeping, for which this 
present writing shall be your authority .” 


A PRECIOUS BOOK 


297 


The private letter was to this effect : 

‘ ‘ I have just learnt from Hasdrubal — and the 
inf ormation is so valuable that it almost reconciles 
me to having had to spare the villain's life— that 
the precious book on Agriculture is to be found in 
the temple of which you have charge . Lose no time 
in getting it into your possession . It is supposed 
to contain secrets of the very greatest value . Any- 
how, the authorities at home attach great impor- 
tance to its preservation. To lose it would be a dis- 
aster. I can rely, I know, on your prudence and 
energy .” 

“ Cleanor, can you throw any light on this mat- 
ter ? ” asked the Roman. 

“No,” was the answer, “ except to tell you what 
I know about the priests. There are two attached 
to the temple. One is an old man — almost, as I un- 
derstand, in his dotage — whom I did not see ; the 
other, his son, middle-aged, with whom I negotiated 
the affair of which I told you. That is absolutely 
all that I know, except that my friend the physi- 
cian described the son as being on the whole an 
honourable man, who could be trusted the more im- 
plicitly the more one made it worth his while to be 
true.” 

“That,” said young Scipio, “is the man whom I 
saw the day that I took charge of the temple. He 


298 


LORDS OF THE WORLD 


caine to thank me. Since then he has never ap- 
peared. The services have been intermitted. They 
could hardly, indeed, have been carried on with all 
these soldiers in the place. He is the first person of 
whom to make inquiries.” 

Scipio then summoned the centurion, who was 
nominally his second in command. The man was a 
veteran who had seen more than twenty campaigns 
— his first experience of war had been at Pydna 
under the great iEmilius Paulus — an excellent sol- 
dier in his way, but without much judgment in 
matters outside his own narrow sphere of experi- 
ence. 

“Convey,” young Scipio said to this officer, u a 
respectful request to the priest of the temple that 
he will favour me with an interview.” 

In due course the priest appeared. It had been 
arranged between the friends that no reference 
should be made to the shelter given to the women. 

“I am informed,” said Scipio, “that you have 
charge, as priest of this temple, of a certain book 
relating to agriculture.” 

“You are right, sir,” replied the man, “so far as 
this : there is such a book, and it is kept in this 
place ; but it is not in my charge. My father is the 
priest, and it is in his custody.” 

“Let me see your father, then,” said the young 
officer. 


A PRECIOUS BOOK 


299 


“Unhappily, sir,” replied the man, “he is inca- 
pable of answering or even of hearing a question. 
He has been failing in mind for some time, and the 
events of the last few days have greatly affected 
him. This morning he had a stroke of paralysis, 
and has been unconscious ever since.” 

“ But you know,” said Scipio, “ where the book 
is?” 

“Asa matter of fact,” the priest answered, “I 
know, or, to put the matter more strictly, I believe 
that I know. But the secret has been very jealously 
guarded. It has been usual for the priest to hand 
over the charge formally to his successor when he 
felt himself failing. To meet the case that the 
priest might die suddenly, or fail for some other 
reason to communicate the secret in due course, the 
Shopetim were also in possession of it. They have 
also another copy of the treatise.” 

“And where was that kept ? ” asked Scipio. 

“In the Temple of iEsculapius, but in what part 
of the temple of course I know not.” 

“If it was there it must ,liave perished,” said the 
Roman. “ Nothing could have been left after the 
tremendous fire of yesterday. Lead the way and 
show us the place that you have in your mind.” 

“ It shall be done, sir,” said the man. “But let 
me first see how it fares with my father. It is pos- 
sible that he may yet revive.” 


300 


LORDS OF THE WORLD 


Permission was, of course, granted, and lie went. 
Before many minutes he returned. 

“My father has passed away,” he said in a low 
voice, “and without becoming conscious even for a 
moment ; so the woman that was in attendance told 
me. Follow me, sir.” 

He led the way down a flight of steps, and then 
along a passage to the chamber in which it termi- 
nated. The door was carefully concealed in the 
wall, with the surface of which it was entirely uni- 
form. The priest, however, had no difficulty in 
opening it. He pressed a secret spring, and it 
opened. 

“This,” he said, as they entered a small lofty 
room lighted from above, “is the priest’s private 
chamber. The book should be somewhere here. But 
at this point my knowledge comes to an end.” 

“ If I might hazard a guess,” said Clean or, “the 
hiding-place is somewhere in the floor. One would 
naturally, perhaps, look for. another secret door in 
the wall, hence it is likely that some other way of 
concealing it would be tried. Anyhow, let us begin 
with the floor.” 

The place was easily, as it will be seen, too easily 
found. As soon as the matting which covered the 
floor was removed, it became evident that a part 
of the boarding had been recently moved. 

“That is it!” exclaimed the four men — the cen- 


A PRECIOUS BOOK 


301 


turion had accompanied the party — almost in the 
same breath. 

“I don’t like the look of this,” added Cleanor, 
whose quick Greek intelligence had promptly 
taken in the situation. “ It has been taken.” 

He was right. When the boarding was lifted, it 
revealed an empty space. All that remained was a 
wrapper of silk, which might very well have served 
— for there was nothing on it that absolutely indi- 
cated the fact — for a covering to the volume. 

“ What is to be done now?” said Scipio, as the 
four looked at each other with faces full of blank 
disappointment. 

“ My father,” said the priest, after a short pause 
of reflection, “ must have taken it away. He evi- 
dently did it in a hurry, without carefully replacing 
the boards. He might have concealed the joining 
so well that it would have been very hard to find. 
See,” and he put the covering back in such a way 
that the spot was absolutely undistinguisliable 
from the rest of the floor. “This makes me sure 
that it has been done quite recently, and when he 
was not quite himself.” 

“I wonder,” said Cleanor, “whether by chance 
your guests could tell us anything about it ? ” 

“My guests!” cried the priest, vainly endeav- 
ouring to conceal his dismay. 

“Don’t trouble yourself, my good friend,” said 


302 


LORDS OF THE WORLD 


Scipio with a smile. “ My friend Cleanor has taken 
me into his confidence, and I think you have done 
very well in helping him in this matter. It is just 
possible that, as he suggests, the women may have 
seen something — enough to give us a clew.” 

“Possibly,” said the priest. “The book was far 
too bulky to be easily destroyed. That I know, 
though I have never had it in my hands. But it 
may have been put away where it will be hard to 
find.” 

“Cleanor,” said Scipio, after a brief reflection, 
“ will you go and see what you can find out ? The 
priest will show you the way.” 

Cleanor accordingly followed the priest to the 
apartment which had been assigned to Theoxena 
and her daughter. Only the elder woman was 
visible. Daphne, she assured Cleanor, after an ex- 
change of affectionate greetings, was quite well, but 
was busy at the moment with some needle- work. 
When questioned about the old priest and his 
movements, she had no information of any impor- 
tance to give. He had been very strange in manner, 
constantly muttering, but so indistinctly that she 
could not catch more than a word or two here and 
there. She had, it is true, caught the word “ treas- 
ure” once or twice. She had certainly not seen 
him with anything in his hands. Daphne, however, 
might have more to sa} r . The old man had seemed 


A PRECIOUS BOOK 803 

to take a fancy to her, and had talked to her a good 
deal. 

Daphne, accordingly, was fetched by her mother, 
and came in covered with a charming confusion, 
which in the young Greek’s eyes added not a little 
to her beauty. It was the fact, indeed, that the 
few days of peace which she had enjoyed with her 
mother in their place of refuge had made a marvel- 
lous change for the better in her looks. The hunted 
expression had gone out of her eyes, which, deep 
as ever, were now limpid and calm. The cheeks 
which, when Cleanor had last seen them, were wan 
and worn, were already rounded, and touched with 
the delicate tint of returning health. Cleanor did 
not fail to note all this with the greatest satisfac- 
tion, but for the time he was absorbed by the inter- 
est of the story which she had to tell about the old 
priest. 

“ I saw the old man,” she said, “ on the first day 
of our coming here. He seemed to take me for 
someone else. In fact, once or twice he called me 
by some name which sounded like Judith, but I 
could not catch it distinctly. Commonly he spoke 
to me as his daughter. He had no son, he said ; I 
was all that he had left. He had evidently some- 
thing on his mind that troubled him greatly. He 
would talk about u a treasure” which he had in his 
keeping, and which he must hand over to the right 


304 


LORDS OF THE WORLD 


person, only that lie did not know where this person 
was. 4 Anyhow,’ and when he said this his voice 
seemed to grow stronger, and his eyes to' lighten 
up, ‘anyhow, the enemy must not be allowed to 
get it.’ After the uproar that took place in the 
temple one day — we did not know what had hap- 
pened, but we guessed that the Romans had made 
their way in, and we were very much frightened 
— he was much worse. That same evening he said 
to me, 4 Daughter, I want you to help me. Come 
with me.’ He took me down a flight of steps, and 
then along a passage which seemed to end in a wall. 
When we were almost at the end, he said, 4 Now, 
turn round and shut your eyes. You must not see 
what I am going to do.’ I did what he told me, 
and waited. In about half an hour he came back, 
panting very much and breathing hard. He car- 
ried a great roll in his arms. I could not see what 
it was.” 

44 Did it look like a book ?” asked Cleanor. 

44 Yes,” replied the girl, 44 it might have been a 
book. I asked him whether I should carry it for 
him. 4 No,’ he said, 4 no woman has ever touched 
it. Indeed, no woman has ever seen it before. I 
hope that I have not done wrong. But what was I 
to do ? I had no one else to help me. And any- 
how, the enemy must never have it.’ We went up 
the passage, and down another, till we came to a 


A PRECIOUS BOOK 


305 


place where one of the stones in the pavement had 
a ring in it. ‘ Now you must help me,’ he said. ‘ I 
have got to take that stone up.’ We both pulled 
away at the stone as hard as we could. For some 
time we seemed to make no impression at all. Then 
he went away and came in a few minutes with a 
lantern, for by this time it was getting quite dark, 
and a chisel. ‘Work the mortar away from the 
edges,’ he said ; ‘ my eyes are too old to see.’ So I 
worked the mortar out, and then we pulled again. 
I don’t think that I did very much, but he seemed 
to get wonderfully strong with the excitement. At 
last we felt that it was beginning to give, and in 
the end we pulled it quite away. I heard what 
sounded like the lapping of water a long way be- 
low. Then the old man took the roll and dropped 
it into the hole. After that we put the stone back 
into its place.” 

“And you can take us to the place?” asked 
Cleanor. 

“ Certainly,” replied the girl. 

“ I must tell my friends,” said Cleanor, “ what I 
have heard. Wait while I go.” 

In the course of a few minutes he returned with 
Scipio and the centurion. At the latter’s sugges- 
tion the party provided themselves with torches, 
and then proceeded, under Daphne’s guidance, to 
the indicated spot. The stone was removed from its 
20 


306 


LORDS OF THE WORLD 


place, an operation which required so great an ex- 
ertion of strength that there was something almost 
miraculous in its having been accomplished before 
by a decrepit old man and a girl. The priest, it was 
clear, must have worked with frantic energy. 

The first thing was to lower a burning torch. The 
light revealed a depth which might be estimated at 
some sixty or seventy feet. At the bottom there 
was a stream which seemed, as far as could be esti- 
mated from the sound, to be moving with some 
rapidity. Judging from the height of the temple 
above the level of the harbour, the water seemed to 
be a land-spring which flowed into it some way be- 
low the surface. The chance of recovering anything 
dropped into such a place seemed remote, without 
reckoning the very considerable chance of its being 
irretrievably damaged. 

Scipio was discussing with Cleanor and the centu- 
rion the best method of proceeding, when Daphne’s 
keen eyes discovered that something seemed to be 
resting on a ledge that projected from the side of 
the well some twenty feet below the surface. What 
it was could not be seen, but it was obviously worth 
investigating. The only way of doing this was to 
lower someone with ropes, and Cleanor, who was 
lighter than either of the Romans, volunteered for 
the service. After some delay, ropes of adequate 
strength were obtained, Cleanor was lowered to the 


THE END OF CARTHAGE 


307 


spot, and the missing treasure, for the object which 
Daphne had descried was nothing less, was recov- 
ered. 

“The Roman Commonwealth,” said Scipio, mak- 
ing a polite obeisance, “ owes very much to this 
young lady.” 


CHAPTER XXVIII 


THE END OF CARTHAGE 



IHE younger Scipio lost no time in handing over 


-L the precious volume which had been so nearly 
lost, and so fortunately recovered, to the general, 
reporting, of course, the circumstances of its rescue. 
At the same time he described the relation in which 
Daphne and her mother stood to Cleanor, and hinted 
that his friend seemed to have a keener interest in 
the girl than a young man would ordinarily feel for 
liis foster-sister. 

“This is not the place for women,” said the elder 
Scipio, “and the sooner these two are out of it, the 
better. Now, what is to be done?” 

“ Would not my Aunt Cornelia 1 receive them for 
a time if you could contrive to send them to her?” 

1 Cornelia, the 11 mother of the Gracchi,” was the elder daughter of Scipio 
Africanus the Elder. The young Scipio of my story, who is, I may say, an 


308 


LORDS OF THE WORLD 


“ An excellent idea, my Lucius ! ” cried the gen- 
eral. “It shall be done, and by good luck, there is 
opportunity this very day. I am sending off a gal- 
ley with despatches for the Senate and some private 
letters of my own. Lollius is in command, and 
there is not a more trustworthy man in the fleet. 
I will put the women into his charge. And I will 
write to my mother — she will still be in Rome when 
the galley arrives — and ask her to give them hospi- 
tality. We must hope that my cousin, Tiberius, 
will not fall in love with the damsel. Is she beau- 
tiful ?” 

“ As beautiful a girl as ever I saw. But you need 
not be alarmed. I am pretty sure that the young 
lady will not have a look or a thought for anyone 
in Italy.” 

“I will send an orderly to Cleanor to explain, and 
leave him to arrange the business. So that is set- 
tled. Now for public matters. Yesterday I opened 
the sealed instructions which I brought with me 
when I left Rome, and which I was not to read till 
Carthage was taken. They are, as I feared, to the 

imaginary character, but is supposed to belong to a younger generation than 
Scipio Afiicanus the Younger, the conqueror of Carthage, would therefore 
be her great-nephew. Scipio himself was her nephew by adoption (being 
the adopted son of her brother) and her first cousin by blood. (He was a son 
of iEmilius Paulus, and she was the daughter of HSmilius Paulus’s sister. ) 
He was also her son-in-law. Her elder son, Tiberius, was born in 163 B.c. , and 
was therefore seventeen at this time ; the younger, Caius, was about nine. 


THE END OF CARTHAGE 


309 


effect that the city is to be razed to the ground. 
Now, I make no secret to anybody — in any case I 
should speak openly to you — that this policy is not 
to my liking. I don’ t like the principle of it. If it 
were being done with a view to the future safety of 
Rome, I should still hesitate, thinking it to be, even 
in that view, a policy of doubtful advantage. But 
this is not the motive. It is the doing of the capi- 
talists and the traders. They want to destroy every 
port but those which they can dominate themselves, 
and so to get all the trade of the world into their 
own hands. We shall see the same thing— mark 
my words — over again at Corinth ; and Rome will 
have the disgrace of having destroyed, and it may 
be in one year, two of the great capitals of the 
world. I hate such doings, and I don’t care who 
knows it. Still, the thing has to be done. But 
there are matters to be arranged first. One thing 
I have made up my mind about, and happily the 
Senate leaves it to my discretion. I have a free 
hand in dealing with the spoil, with a general pro- 
viso that I am to consult, as in my judgment may 
seem best, the interests of the Commonwealth. 
Whatever there is of real value that can be given 
back to its rightful owners shall be given back. 
Now, Carthage has for three hundred years and 
more been robbing the Greek cities in Sicily. She 
has had, at one time or other, pretty nearly every 


310 


LORDS OF THE WORLD 


one of them except Syracuse in her power. The gold 
and silver that she has taken from them are gone 
beyond remedy, but the works of art remain, and 
can be given back. I have taken some trouble to 
inquire into the matter, and I have got a list here, 
which has been made up for me in Sicily, of some 
of the chief things that we may expect to find. 
Some may have been lost ; some may have fallen 
into private hands and disappeared — the history of 
some of the specimens goes back, I hear, a long 
time. Well, I have appointed yourself, Lucius, 
and two other officers with you to inquire into this 
matter. See which of these things you can find, 
and report to me. Most of the Sicilian cities that 
are interested in the matter have sent envoys to the 
camp, as I daresay you know. If you can find the 
articles it will be easy enough, I do not doubt, to 
find claimants. 

The work of the commission proved to be one of 
considerable magnitude. There were, it was found, 
hundreds of works of art which bore in their ap- 
pearance the manifest signs of a Greek origin. 
The Phoenician genius was not entirely barren in 
the province of art. In some directions, on the 
contrary, it was remarkably fertile. But it never 
attained to, it did not even attempt, except in a 
conventional and even grotesque fashion, the repre- 
sentation of the human form. Any really graceful 


THE END OF CARTHAGE 


311 


or even natural similitude of man or woman that 
was found in Carthaginian temple or house was cer- 
tainly the spoil of some Greek city. Many of the 
less important works were unknown ; about some 
there was much doubt ; their pedigree was uncer- 
tain, sometimes through accident, sometimes 
through fraud, for most of the impostures known 
to the modern world of art are inheritances from 
the ancient. 

But there were some famous treasures about 
which there was no possibility of doubt. Such was 
the Artemis of Segesta, one of the noblest figures 
that ancient sculpture produced. It was colossal in 
size, and yet retained in a singular degree the deli- 
cacy of girlish beauty. The figure was represented 
with a quiver richly gilded hanging from the 
shoulder ; the left hand carried a bow ; in the right 
was a burning torch, which imitated, with a fidelity 
that would hardly have been thought possible in 
marble, the contours of flame. The envoys from 
Segesta positively wept with joy when they found 
themselves in possession of the long-lost treasure of 
their city. 

In a very different style of art, the characteristic 
product of a later and more reflective age, was the 
figure of the poet Stesichorus, carried away by the 
Carthaginians when they destroyed the city of 
Himera, and now about to be restored to the towns- 


312 


LORDS OF TIIE WORLD 


people of Thermae, which occupied its site and in- 
herited its traditions. The poet was represented as 
an old man, frail and stooping, with one hand hold- 
ing a book. The whole expression was admirably 
suited to the serious character of his verse. 

But the most celebrated of all the art treasures 
now about to return to their proper homes was the 
Bull of Agrigentum. The Agrigentines regarded 
this figure with a reverence that was very surpris- 
ing, seeing how it recalled a time of discreditable 
servitude. Scipio happened to come in when the 
precious possession was made over to them, and 
could not help improving the occasion. 

“This is, I understand, the monstrous invention 
of one of your own citizens,” he said. “ He made it 
for your tyrant Phalaris ; it was to be heated from 
underneath, and the groans of the victims inclosed 
in it pleased the brutal caprice of that monster of 
cruelty, by imitating, as he thought, the bellowings 
of a bull. I do not know which was most to be con- 
demned, the servility of the artist or the cruelty of 
the tyrant. Bo you not think, men of Agrigentum, 
that you have happily exchanged the brutality of 
your own citizens, whom you suffered thus to lord 
it over you, for the justice and clemency of the 
Roman people ? ” 

While this business was being completed, the 
work of collecting the general spoil of the city had 


TIIE END OF CARTHAGE 


313 


been going on briskly. Scipio had dealt liberally 
with the troops in this matter. Some generals in 
similar circumstances, whether from anxiety for 
their own enrichment or from zeal to make as large 
a profit as possible for the public purse, overreach 
themselves. They exact too much from the men, 
and thus they are habitually deceived. Scipio was 
personally disinterested in a remarkable degree*, 
and he did not care to be greedy on account of the 
treasury. Simple and well-defined rules were laid 
down for the conduct of the troops. There were 
certain things which a man might keep for himself, 
if he brought other things into a common stock. At 
the end of seven days the fiat of destruction which 
had gone out against Carthage was to be executed. 
A body of men was detailed for the purpose. Com- 
bustibles were disposed in various parts of the city, 
and at a fixed time these were to be kindled. 

“Well,” said the young Scipio to Cleanor as they 
stood together after superintending the embarkation 
of the last cargo of statues and pictures destined 
for Sicily, “well, the last act of the drama is nearly 
over. Shall we go to see the final scene together ? ” 

“I don’ t know,” replied the young Greek. “I feel 
half disposed to cover my head till it is all past.” 

“I can understand,” said Scipio. “Still I can’t 
see, after what has happened, that you owe much 
gratitude to Carthage.” 


314 


LORDS OF THE WORLD 


“Perhaps not,” was the answer. “Yet it was 
all the country that I had. And, anyhow, it is an 
awful thing to see a city that once had her hopes, 
and good hopes, too, of ruling the world, flare out 
into nothing, like a piece of wood-shaving. How- 
ever, I will come. To what place are you thinking 
of going ?” 

“To the citadel, or what was the citadel. The 
chief told me that he should be there at sunset. I 
must own that I am very curious to see how he 
takes it. This, you must know, is not his doing. 
His friends fought hard in the Senate against the 
decree of destruction ; but the majority would have 
it, and there was nothing for him but to carry it out.” 

When the two friends reached the citadel the 
chief was already there, surrounded by his staff, 
his generals of division, and the chief officers of the 
legions. The spectacle of the burning city was 
magnificently terrible. The wind was blowing from 
behind them, and rolled away the smoke in huge 
volumes towards the sea. Now and then it lulled, 
and then a dense cloud covered the whole place, 
save some tower or spire which rose here and there 
out of it. As the light rapidly failed, for the sun 
was just setting when the two friends reached the 
height, the heavy smoke clouds became more and 
more penetrated with a fiery glow, and this again 
grew into one universal, all-embracing blaze of 




* 



“ SCIPIO, THROWING HIS TOGA OVER HIS FACE, BURST INTO A 

PASSION OF TEARS ” 

















































THE END OF CARTHAGE 


315 


light, as the flames gained a more commanding 
hold on the doomed city. Everything was as 
plainly to be seen as if it had been noonday. All 
the while a confused roar came up to the height 
where the spectators stood, varied now and then by 
the tremendous crash of some huge structure falling 
in sudden ruin to the earth. 

The general stood intently watching the scene, 
but without a word, and the group surrounding 
him, overawed by the solemnity of his mood, main- 
tained a profound silence, broken only by some 
almost involuntary cry, when a burst of fiercer 
flame rose to the heavens. When the second watch 
was about half spent 1 — for the hours had seemed to 
pass as minutes, so overpowering was the interest 
of the spectacle — he turned away. Some awful 
vision of the future seemed to reveal itself to his 
soul. He caught Polybius by the hand and said : 

“Will anyone do for Rome what I have been 
doing for Carthage ? ” 

And as he turned away he was heard to murmur 
to himself the line in which Hector, touched in the 
midst of his triumph by a dark prevision of the 
future, foretold the fall of his country : 

“Some day e’en holy Troy herself shall fall.” a 
Then, throwing a fold of his toga over his face, 
Scipio burst into a passion of tears. 

1 About 10.30 P.M. a ’E<r<T€Tcu ^pap or’ av jtot’ oAwAjj ’IAios ipij. 


316 


LORDS OF THE WORLD 


CHAPTER XXIX 

AT DELOS 

C LEANOR gladly accepted the warm invitation 
of the young Scipio again to become his guest. 
For the present the Greek’s plans were uncertain. 
His most definite idea was to follow Theoxena and 
her daughter to Italy as soon as possible. It had 
been arranged that the two women should depart 
on the following day. He would have to look for 
his own passage to the favour of the general ; all 
that he could do, therefore, was to hold himself in 
readiness to depart as soon as the opportunity 
should offer. 

The day was not to pass, however, without giving 
quite a new aspect to the future. The two friends 
had been exchanging experiences, and were just 
thinking of sleep, when Polybius entered the tent. 
After greeting Cleanor — whom he had not seen 
since they had parted in Egypt — in the kindest way, 
not, however, without a smiling rebuke for the trick 
which he had played, he explained his errand. 

“I am going,” he said, “as soon as is possible to 
Greece, where things are in a critical condition, and 
I want you to go with me. I come direct from the 
general, who has put a ship of war at my service, 


AT DELOS 


317 


and who fully approves of your accompanying me, 
I was, he said, to tell you this from him. He also 
gave me another message for you. He wants you 
to give what help you can in the translation of this 
great book on Agriculture. There will be a com- 
mittee appointed to carry it out, and you are to be 
on it if it pleases you. But that will wait, any- 
how, for a few months. The affair in Greece will 
not wait ; the sooner we get there the better, if we 
are to do any good.” 

Nothing could have been more to Cleanor’s mind 
than this proposal, and he promised to be ready to 
depart as soon as he was wanted. Accordingly, the 
very next day, after bidding Theoxena and her 
daughter an affectionate farewell in the morning, 
he himself embarked about sunset with Polybius. 
For some time the voyage was fairly prosperous, if 
not very rapid. The wind came mostly from the 
north, with a touch of east in it. The ship had 
but a poor crew of rowers, and its sailing capacities 
were small. If the wind had more than one point 
from the east the sails had to be hauled down and 
the oars resorted to. 

On the tenth day there came a change in the 
weather. The wind shifted suddenly to the south- 
west. This change was at first hailed with delight 
by everyone on board ; by the rowers, who were 
rejoiced to be set free from their toil, by the pas- 


318 


LORDS OF THE WORLD 


sengers, who were beginning to be impatient of 
their tedious progress. But a wind from the south- 
west has always something dangerous about it. At 
daybreak a steady breeze, it grew before night into 
something like a gale, and it was accompanied by 
weather so thick that, failing any observation of 
either sun or stars, the captain lost his reckoning 
entirely. 

After two days of this alarming uncertainty the 
weather cleared only just in time, as everyone on 
board saw plainly enough, to save the ship from a 
catastrophe. About three miles to the north the 
cliffs of Malia 1 could be seen, crowned by the fa- 
mous Temple of Apollo, whose gilded roof showed 
itself when it was touched, from time to time, by 
some passing gleam of sunshine. On their right 
the cliffs of Cythera were visible. This was satis- 
factory in a way, but the plan of the voyage, which 
was to make for the western end of the Corinthian 
Gulf, had failed. The wind was blowing far too 
strongly to allow the captain to attempt a north- 
western course. He had, therefore, no alternative 
but to let it carry him up the JEgean. What had 
been lost was the safe and easy passage up the 
quiet landlocked waters of the gulf, and with it 
the certainty of reaching Corinth at or near the 
appointed time. 

1 Still called by the same name, at the south-east extremity of the Morea. 


AT DELOS 


319 


After a few hours the weather again changed for 
the worse. The clouds came lower, the wind rose. 
When night came all that the captain and the crew 
knew of their whereabouts was that they were not 
far from Melos, of which they had just caught a 
glimpse in dangerous proximity, on their larboard 
bow. Melos, they knew, was not by any means on 
their straight course to Corinth. They were, in- 
deed, being blown out of this more and more as time 
went on. The best they could hope for was that 
they might not be dashed on one of the rugged and 
inhospitable islands and islets with which the south- 
western iEgean was so thickly studded. 

All night they scudded before the wind under one 
small sail, just enough to give some steering power 
to the rudder. More than once they heard , the 
crash of unseen breakers on some unseen shore, and 
turned their course away from the warning sound. 
With the morning came another welcome change 
of weather. The wind dropped almost instantane- 
ously ; the sky cleared till not a cloud could be 
seen, and the sea, though the long rollers witnessed 
its recent agitation, settled rapidly into calm. 

About two miles to the north, yet seen so distinctly 
through the clear atmosphere of early spring that it 
seemed almost within a stone’s- throw, lay a small 
island which Cleanor recognized at the first glance. 
Only one place in the world brought together so 


320 


LORDS OF THE WORLD 


closely, within so small a space yet on a scale so 
magnificent, the two great elements of Greek life, 
commerce and religion. On the low-lying land of the 
west coast was to be seen the town of Delos, with its 
thickly clustered dwellings. Almost, as it seemed, 
among these rose a forest of masts, for Delos was a 
mart of exchange for the trade of the Mediterranean, 
and the trade of the Mediterranean was practically 
the trade of the civilized world. Close behind the 
town, in all the splendour of its white Parian marble, 
rose the famous temple of the tutelary god of the 
isle, Phoebus Apollo, while nestling beside it were 
the smaller shrines of his twin sister Phoebe or 
Artemis and of Aphrodite. Behind these again was 
the hill of Cyntlius, its steep declivity clothed with 
trees, among which gleamed here and there the white 
shining walls of buildings both sacred and secular. 

“ Delos ! ” cried the captain ; “ well, it might have 
been worse, and if we can only get out of the har- 
bour as easily and quickly as it seems likely we shall 
get into it, we shall have nothing to complain of.” 

“Here,” cried Cleanor to Polybius, as they stood 
side by side on the galley’s deck, “here is one of 
my dreams come to pass ! I have always desired to 
see Delos, and here it is. Truly, here Greece is still 
to be seen in all its glory.” 

Polybius smiled somewhat bitterly. “ There is 
very little of Greece, I fear, about Delos nowadays.” 


AT DELOS 


321 


“But it belongs to Athens surely,” broke in the 
young Greek, “just as it did in the best times of 
Greece.” 

“Yes, it belongs to Athens,” replied his friend; 
“if that means that Athenian coin is circulated 
there, and the government is carried on in the name 
of the Athenian people. But Delos is Roman for 
all practical purposes. As for the Delians them- 
selves, they were all deported twenty years ago, and 
this time unfortunately Apollo did not interfere . 1 
No, my dear friend, it is only the past of Delos that 
belongs to Greece, and that happily no power on 
earth can take from her. That, thank the gods, we 
can still enjoy.” 

Some hours were pleasantly spent by the two 
friends in examining the sights of the place. Po- 
lybius had been there two or three times before ; 
Cleanor, who knew every reference to the sacred 
island— from the young palm-tree to which Ulysses 
compared the fair Nausicaa onwards — was prepared 
thoroughly to enjoy the guidance of so intelligent a 
companion. Later on in the day they strolled 
through the business town. Evidently it was a thriv- 
ing place. The docks were crowded with ships, the 


1 The inhabitants of Delos were sent away from their island by the Roman 
government in 167 B.C. The Athenians had done exactly the same thing in 
422 b. C. , but the oracle of Delphi had warned them that they must be brought 
back, and this was accordingly done some time afterwards. 


322 


LORDS OF THE WORLD 


wharves covered with merchandise of every kind, 
from the spices of the East to the ivory brought by 
African hunters from the great forests of the South. 
But there was little or nothing Greek about it. Two 
out of three among the huge factories which lined 
the harbour-side belonged to Roman traders. The 
others belonged to merchants of Tyre, of Antioch, 
of Joppa, of Alexandria, but it was the exception 
to find a Greek name among them. Cleanor could 
not help confessing to himself that another illusion 
was gone. The most famous seat of Greek life, 
whether sacred or secular, had passed into the power 
of the stranger. 

The anxiety of the travellers to get to their jour- 
ney’s end was increased by all that they heard in 
the island. It was clear, by all accounts, that the 
fate of Corinth was imminent. But, much against 
their wills, their stay was prolonged. The ship had 
received so severe a buffeting during its voyage from 
Carthage that it could not be said to be seaworthy. 
It had to be laid up in dock and repaired. And 
then, when it was pronounced ready for sea, the 
weather made it absolutely impossible to start. 
The captain had been only too prescient when he 
doubted whether they should be able to get out of 
the harbour as easily as they got in. 

There was, indeed, much to be seen in Delos, 
which was then at the height of its prosperity, and 


AT DELOS 


323 


adorned with the offerings which the piety of more 
than five hundred years had heaped upon it. But 
Polybius and his companion were so impatient to 
reach their destination that the time seemed to hang 
heavily on their hands. Disturbing rumours, too, 
were current about the policy which Rome was 
likely to pursue at Corinth. That the city would 
speedily be captured was considered certain, and 
there were ominous conjectures as to its probable 
fate. One day the friends had accepted an invita- 
tion to dinner from Diagoras, the Athenian gov- 
ernor of the island, and Corinth was naturally the 
principal subject of conversation. What Diagoras 
had to say was alarming in the extreme. 

“ You have come from Carthage,” he said. “Well, 
what you have seen there you will see again at 
Corinth. The capitalists and the commercial party 
have it all their own way at Rome now, and their 
policy is, of course, monopoly. Every trade rival 
must be put out of the way. Carthage has been de- 
stroyed. That was not, as you know, the doing of 
the nobles. Scipio and his friends were strongly 
against it. The capitalists carried it in the Senate, 
partly by their own votes, partly by the votes which 
they practically bought. I could tell you the men 
— and some of their names would surprise you — 
whose votes were purchased, and I could tell you 
the price that was paid for them. The same thing 


324 


LORDS OF THE WORLD 


lias happened over and over again. Listen to this. 
I must not tell you the name of my correspondent, 
but his authority is beyond all doubt : 

“ ‘ The vote has gone as I expected, Corinth is to 
perish . The division was closer than in the Car- 
thage affair , for the crime — I can call it nothing 
less — is more scandalous and more unprovoked, 
Carthage was once formidable, though she has long 
ceased to be so ; Corinth never could have caused a 
moment’s fear to Rome. It is simply the case of a 
trader burning down a rival’s warehouse .’ 

‘‘This letter I received last night,” the governor 
continued, “ and it appears to have been delayed on 
the way. The Senate’s instructions to Mummius — 
it is he that is in command at Corinth, and a very 
different man from your Scipio, I fancy — must have 
reached him by this time.” 

“Then we are too late,” said Polybius, with a 
groan. 

“Yes,” replied the governor, “though I do not 
see what you could have done even if you had not 
been delayed. All that will be in your power will 
be to help individuals. I should recommend you, 
by the way, to go to Athens first, and get a safe- 
conduct and letters of introduction from the Roman 
agent there. These will make your task easier.” 


CORINTII 


325 


Two or three days after this conversation the 
travellers were able to make a start. A gentle 
breeze from the east carried them out of the har- 
bour, and took them quickly to their journey’s 
end. 


CHAPTER XXX 

CORINTH 

T HE news that met the travellers when they ar- 
rived at Athens was as bad as their worst fears 
had anticipated. The whole city was in mourning. 
One of her sister states — after herself the most 
splendid, and wealthy beyond anything to which 
she could pretend — had perished, and Athens, more 
generous than her rival had been in former days, 
grieved unfeignedly for her fate . 1 It was a lamenta- 
ble story of rashness, incapacity, and cowardice 
that Polybius and Cleanor had to listen to, and 
they heard it in full detail from a young soldier 
who had himself taken part in the campaign. At 
first the young man could hardly be persuaded to 
speak, so heartily ashamed was he of the conduct 
of his countrymen. At last, assured of the sympa- 

1 In 404 b.c., when the Spartans and their allies had captured Athens, 
Corinth voted for the total destruction of the city. 


326 


LORDS OF THE WORLD 


thetic temper of his hearers, he related a narrative, 
of which it will be sufficient for me to give an out- 
line. 

“ I was one of the aides-de-camp to the general of 
the year, Critolaiis. Did you know him ? ” 

“Yes,” said Polybius, “only too well; a more 
incompetent fool never ruined the affairs of a state.” 

“Well,” said the young soldier, “he has paid 
for his folly. Early in this year we marched out of 
our winter-quarters near Corinth to attack Heraclea 
in Thessaly, which had declared itself out of the 
League . 1 We had just sat down before the town 
when news came that the Roman army was ap- 
proaching. Immediately there was a scuttle. The 
general did not wait to hear what was the force of 
the enemy, but was off at once. Some of his officers 
begged him to make a stand at Thermopylae. We 
were not all of us such curs as he. There really 
was a chance of holding the pass till we could get 
any help that might be forthcoming. Anyhow, it 
was a place where a Greek might fight with the 
best hope and die with the most honour. But the 
general had no wish to fight, much less to die. He 
hurried through Thermopylae, thinking to get back 
to the intrenched camp at Corinth in which we had 
wintered ; but Metellus — he was in command of the 
Romans — was too quick for us. He overtook us 

1 The Achaean League. 


CORINTH 


327 


when we had got about twenty miles from Ther- 
mopylae, and there was a battle— if you may call it 
a battle, when one side charges and the other runs 
away. The Thebans, it is true, held their ground. 
They may call the Thebans stupid, but they are 
wonderfully good soldiers. Yet what was the good 
of one corps standing firm when there was no one 
to back it up? As for Critolaiis, no one knows 
what became of him. He galloped off as soon as 
the Homan troops came in sight, and he has never 
been seen from that day to this. 

“Well, nothing was left of the army but a few 
scattered troops and companies, and many of these 
were cut up, or taken prisoners one by one. I am 
bound to say that the Homans behaved very well. 
They offered quarter to anyone who would lay 
down his arms, and safety to every state that 
would submit. It was more than could be ex- 
pected, for really they could have imposed any 
terms that they pleased. But our chiefs, led by 
Diseus, who had succeeded Critolaiis, were bent on 
securing their own lives. They were afraid that on 
some pretext they would be excepted in any am- 
nesty that might be offered, and so they went on 
fighting. Diseus made a levy en masse of the whole 
population, and, besides, armed twelve thousand 
slaves, if you may call it arming a man to give him 
a blunt sword and a spear with a cracked shaft. 


328 


LORDS OF THE WORLD 


Money lie raised in any way he could ; first; he con- 
fiscated the property of all who belonged to the 
peace party, and made up what was wanting — and 
a good deal was wanting — by robbing his own 
friends. He took up his position on the Isthmus, 
close to what is left of the wall built in the Persian 
time . 1 Everything went badly from the first. Our 
vanguard was near Megara, and, of course, we ex- 
pected that it would make a stand, so as to give us 
a little time. It had a strong position which it 
might have held for at least three or four days. 
Well, it fled without so much as striking a blow. 

“After this, Metellus, who really behaved in the 
most moderate way, gave Diseus a chance. He sent 
envoys to offer terms, really liberal terms, too, 
which it would have been no dishonour for people 
much better off than we were to accept. To make 
them more acceptable, as he thought, these envoys 
were Greeks, men of the highest character. But 
our general would not listen to them. Not only 
that, but he charged them in the public assembly 
with being traitors, and they were all but killed in 

1 It was the favourite plan of the Peloponnesian states in the Persian war 
to fortify the Isthmus and leave all Northern Greece at the mercy of the 
Persians ; but this plan was abandoned owing to the declaration of the 
Athenians that, if it was persisted in, they would make terms with the Per- 
sians. A wall, of course, would have been useless, if the fleet of the enemy 
were free to land an army wherever it pleased. The work, however, was 
begun, though never completed. 


CORINTH 


329 


the riot that followed. Then we had yet another 
chance. Philo the Thessalian, than whom there is 
no man more honoured in Greece, came with con- 
ditions for an arrangement. Some of the general’s 
own party were convinced. Old Stratius, who has 
never been a friend to Rome, as you know, actually 
grovelled on the ground, and caught Dheus by the 
knees, entreating him to give way. But it was all 
of no use. Philo had to go away without accom- 
plishing anything. In fact, all this seemed only to 
make the man more furious. He had some of his 
own officers brought before a court-martial on the 
charge of being in communication with the enemy. 
Their real fault was that they had been imprudent 
enough to show that they were in favour of peace. 
One of them was found guilty and put to the tort- 
ure. He bore it, I was told, without saying a 
word. Two others escaped with their lives, but 
only by paying a bribe — one a talent, the other 
forty minse, for the man was as greedy as he was 
cruel, and he went on robbing and murdering with 
the sword within a foot of his own neck. 

“Then we had another reprieve. There was a 
change of generals in the Roman army. Mummius, 
who had crossed from Italy, took over the command 
from Metellus. While new arrangements were 
being made the Romans sat still, and Diseus took 
the notion into his head that they were beginning to 


330 


LORDS OF THE WORLD 


be afraid of us. Then there happened some small 
affair of outposts in which our cavalry got the best 
of it. It was but a trifle, not more than half a dozen 
men killed or wounded on either side, but it elated 
our chief beyond all measure. First he sent envoys 
to offer terms to the Romans. They were to evacu- 
ate Greece, and give hostages as guarantee that 
they would not return. If they did this, Diseus 
would allow them to depart in safety. It was the 
act of a madman, and, of course, Mummius did not 
even condescend to send back an answer. 

“ But it was a good thing for me. I, you see, was 
one of the envoys, and I did not go back with them. 
It was quite enough for me to go through the Roman 
camp, and see the admirable order and discipline, 
not to speak of the number of men, to feel sure that 
we had not the shadow of a chance. I frankly told 
the Roman general, who seems a kind-hearted man, 
though somewhat of a boor, how I was situated. I 
was really serving under compulsion, a sort of host- 
age for my father, who is a leader of the peace party, 
and as he was out of danger now, living as he did 
in Northern Greece, and so not within reach of the 
League, I felt free to leave, without having to feel 
myself a deserter. The general was very kind, and 
advised me to leave the seat of war, where, indeed, 
it would have been painful for me to stay, whatever 
might happen. Accordingly I came to Athens ; 


CORINTH 


331 


that is why I have the pleasure of seeing you to- 
day.” 

“ And what has happened since ?” asked Polyb- 
ius. 

“A despatch came in yesterday. Everything 
has gone as I expected. The League generals were 
as rash at the end as they were timorous at the 
beginning. They offered battle to the Romans 
though these were twice as strong in actual num- 
bers, not to speak of being vastly superior in disci- 
pline and quality generally. The cavalry turned 
and fled without waiting to cross swords with the 
enemy. The infantry, who were mostly Thebans, 
behaved better, but the number of the enemy told 
against them. They were outflanked and broken. 
After that, of course, all was over. The general 
wrote that he held back his troops from the pur- 
suit.” 

“And Diaeus, what of him?” asked Polybius. 
“I hope the villain has had his deserts. How has 
Greece sinned against the gods that she should be 
cursed with having such fellows put in authority 
over her?” 

“Nothing was known of what happened to him. 
But his body was not found among the dead.” 

Polybius and his companion were kept for three 
days longer in Athens, the Roman commissioner 
refusing them a permit to pass to the front. Mum- 


332 


LORDS OF TIIE WORLD 


mius was still before tlie city. Till lie had entered 
it the presence of strangers in the camp was con- 
sidered to be inconvenient. Late in the evening 
of the third day a despatch arrived from him, 
dated from the citadel of Corinth. He explained 
that no resistance had been offered by the Greek 
army ; but that, finding it difficult to believe that 
so strong a place could be given up without some 
attempt at defence, he had waited till he could be 
sure that no stratagem was intended. The city, 
he added, was perfectly quiet ; all the leaders of the 
hostile army had either fallen in battle or were 
prisoners in his hands. Diseus was reported to 
have fled into Arcadia, and to have there committed 
suicide along with his wife, but the report was not 
at present confirmed. 

The Roman commissioner immediately on receiv- 
ing this news sent the desired permission to Polyb- 
ius, and the two friends, who had everything in 
readiness for their journey, started at once. Travel- 
ling all night, they reached Corinth, which was not 
more than thirty miles from Athens, shortly after 
dawn. The city presented a most lamentable ap- 
pearance. The great market-place, and all the 
other squares and open spaces were thronged with 
a helpless and miserable crowd of men, women, and 
children, of all ages and all ranks, doomed to the 
cruellest lot that humanity can endure. The Sen- 



A CORINTHIAN NOBLEMAN BEING SOLD AS A SLAVE IN THE 

MARKET-PLACE 

















i 


I 









« 








♦ 






























♦ 



































CORINTH 


333 


ate and People of Rome, provoked, it must be 
allowed, to the utmost, by the insolence and folly 
of the Corinthians, had passed the savage decree 
that the whole population of the city should be sent 
to the slave-market. 

The horrible business had already begun. The 
wretched victims had been divided into lots accord- 
ing to sex and age. The quaestor’s clerks — the 
quaestor, it may be explained, was the officer who 
had charge of finance — were busy noting down par- 
ticulars, and the loathsome crew of slave-dealers 
and their assistants, foul creatures that always fol- 
lowed close on the track of a Roman army, were 
appraising the goods which were soon to be offered 
for competition. Nobles of ancient houses, mer- 
chants, who but a month before could have matched 
their riches with the wealthiest capitalists of Rome, 
the golden youth of the most luxurious city of the 
world, and, saddest of all, delicate women, whose 
beauty had been jealously guarded even from sun 
and wind, stood helplessly exposed to the brutal 
gaze and yet more brutal handling of Egyptian and 
Syrian slave -dealers, barbarians to whom in the 
haughty pride of their Hellenism, they would 
scarcely have conceded the title of man. 

Cleanor recognized among the victims several 
whose acquaintance he had made during his brief 
sojourn in Corinth during the previous year. The 


334 


LORDS OF THE WORLD 


contrast between their present degradation and 
the almost insolent pride of their prosperous days 
touched him to the heart. The emotion of Polybius 
was even more profound. Some of these men were 
lifelong friends. He had sat by their side at the 
council ; he had been a guest at their hospitable 
tables. Some of them bore names associated with 
the greatest glories of Greece. To see them exposed 
for sale like so many sheep or oxen was a thing 
more strange and more horrible than he could have 
conceived to be possible. 

Not less strange, if less harrowing, was the spec- 
tacle which presented itself to the two friends when 
they reached that quarter of the city in which the 
Roman soldiery had bivouacked. One of the first 
things that they saw was a group of soldiers off 
duty busy with a game of hazard. For the conven- 
ience of having a level surface on which to throw 
the dice they had stretched a canvas on the ground. 
Polybius, whose eye was caught by what looked 
like a figure on this improvised dice -table, ap- 
proached and looked over the shoulder of one of 
the players to examine it more closely. He started 
back in amazement and horror. 

“Great Zeus !” he cried, “what do you think it 
is, Cleanor, that these fellows have laid there to 
throw their dice upon % Why, it is one of the finest 
pictures in the world! It is the ‘ Dionysus ’ of 


CORINTH 


335 


Aristides ! The city, I have been told, gave twenty 
talents for it to the artist, and, to my certain knowl- 
edge, might have sold it over and over again for 
twice as much, if not more. Look at it. Did you 
ever see anything finer ? See how the god is fling- 
ing himself from his car ! See with what surprise 
Ariadne is turning to look at him ! And the throng 
of nymphs and satyrs ! Did you ever behold such 
variety, such energy, such grace ? And these bar- 
barians are using it for a dice-table ! ” 

“ Hush,’ ’ said Cleanor, warningly. “They may 
be barbarians, but they are our masters, and it is 
prudent to be civil.” 

Close by was another group which was amusing 
itself in precisely the same way. The picture was 
not, it is true, so famous a master-piece as the 
“Dionysus;” it was the “Hercules” of Polygnotus, 
but it was a work of art which meant a modest 
fortune to anyone who had had the luck to possess 
himself of it. As for the purpose which it was then 
serving, a table of gold would not have been so 
inappropriately costly. Anomalies of the same 
kind could be seen everywhere. Coverlets of the 
richest Tyrian purple, tapestries worked with fig- 
ures as graceful and delicate as the most skilful 
brush of the painter could make them, embroidered 
robes that Pallas might have worked or Aphrodite 
worn, the treasures brought from the harems of 


336 


LORDS OF TIIE WORLD 


Eastern kings, lay about to be trampled under the 
feet of Apulian herdsmen, Sabine ploughmen, and 
Campanian vine-dressers. To these sturdy peasants, 
ignorant of all arts but the soldier’s, they were but 
gaudy-coloured cloths which might be put, in de- 
fault of something more convenient, to the meanest 
purposes. 

“ Great Zeus !” cried Polybius, as he looked on 
the scene, “ what a waste ! It is better that any- 
one should have these treasures than that they 
should be wasted in this fashion. Let us see 
Mummius and give him an idea of what is going 
on.” 


CHAPTER XXXI 

MUMMIUS 

S CIPIO had furnished Polybius with a letter ad- 
dressed to Mummius, who, as one of the con- 
suls of the year, was likely, sooner or later, to take 
command of the forces that were to operate against 
Corinth. Thanks to this he found no difficulty in 
obtaining for himself and Cleanor access to the 
great man. He had also the advantage of having 
made the consul’s acquaintance during his sojourn 


MUMMIUS 


337 


in Italy. Mummius was a “ new man,” 1 one of the 
class which their enemies describe as upstarts, their 
friends as “ self-made men.” He was rude and un- 
cultured, with just so much education as enabled 
him to spell through a state document and sign his 
name. But if he was ignorant and unrefined, on 
the other hand he was honest, a plain man who did 
his duty up to his light, not given either to self-in- 
dulgence or greed, and humane at least up to the 
Roman average. 

The friends found him immersed in business, a 
kind of business, too, with which he was wholly 
unfitted to deal. This, however, did not prevent 
him greeting Polybius in friendly fashion, and 
speaking a few words of welcome to Cleanor. 

“ What can I do for you, gentlemen ? ” he asked, 
when these salutations had been exchanged. 

Polybius briefly described what he had seen, and 
suggested that some steps should be taken to put a 
stop to this waste of valuable property. 

“This sort of thing is quite beyond me !” ex- 
claimed the consul in some irritation. “I don’t 
understand what you mean by these treasures of 
art. However, I will see to it. But I have done 
a good stroke of business for the treasury. There 
are hundreds of statues about the city, which, in- 

i A novus homo was one who could not reckon among his ancestors any- 
one who had risen to the rank of consul or praetor. 


338 


LORDS OF TIIE WORLD 


deed, is fairly blocked up with them. What they 
could want with so many I can’t conceive. As for 
being statues of great men, as the}^ tell me, I can 
hardly believe it. Why, the whole country is not 
a quarter of the size of Italy, and we haven’ t a half 
or anything like a half. But as to the statues. 
The agents of King Eumenes of Pergamus were 
here yesterday, and gave me five thousand sesterces 
apiece for the pick of a hundred statues. That 
makes a fine sum of money, more than a knight’s 
qualification, as you know.” 1 

“Five thousand apiece! is that all?” cried Po- 
lybius. “I don’t know, of course, what the stat- 
ues were, but I am pretty sure that King Eumenes 
would send an agent who knew what he was about. 
And if he had the first pick, I should say that the 
king has made the best bargain that he ever made 
in his life. Five thousand, indeed ! It would not 
have been a bad stroke of business, I should say, if 
he had paid fifty thousand. I know that he gave 
double that to Diagoras of Rhodes for Myron’s 
Dancing Faun.” 

“You astonish me,” said Mummius. “I never 
dreamt of such sums. Why, at Interamna — my 
native place, you know — they put up a statue of 

1 Five thousand sesterces would be £40, 7s. Id., and the total price paid 
would be a little over £4,000 ; the property qualification of a knight was 
£3,600. 


MUMMIUS 


339 


my father, twice the size of life, and the sculptor 
thought himself very well paid with five thousand 
sesterces, the town finding the stone. But I sup- 
pose you know all about these things. However, I 
have passed my word, and I can’ t go back from my 
bargain. But the king didn’t get quite the pick, as 
you call it. I sent Duilius, my quaestor, round the 
city to look about him and choose a cargo of speci- 
mens to send over to Rome. He told me that he 
knew something about these matters. And he can 
speak Greek, which is something.” 

At this point of the conversation one of the con- 
sul’s lictors knocked at the door and announced 
that the transport contractors had called by ap- 
pointment. 

Polybius and his companion offered to go away. 
“Ho,” said Mummius, “there is nothing private, 
and I have something else to say to you afterwards. 
Bring them in,” he went on, speaking to the lictor. 

The contractors were three in number, the owners 
of as many transport ships. They had undertaken 
to convey three ship-loads of statues to Rome. One 
of them had a catalogue of these works of art, which 
he handed to the consul. Mummius had another copy. 

“ Would you be good enough,” he said to Polyb- 
ius, “to go over the list with these gentlemen. 
You will tell me whether it is all right, and you 
will see what sort of choice Duilius has made.” 


340 


LORDS OF THE WORLD 


The list contained some two hundred items in all, 
and there was scarcely one of them which Polybius 
did not know or had not heard as being a master- 
piece in its way. There were works amongst them 
of all the famous sculptors of Greece, from Phidias 
downwards — Polyclitus, Myron, Praxiteles, and the 
masters of the Rhodian and the Pergamene schools. 

‘‘Well,” said the historian, when the list had 
been carefully gone through, “Duilius has done his 
business very well. He has got the pick of the 
treasures of Corinth. And King Eumenes, though 
he has done exceedingly well, can hardly have made 
the extravagantly good bargain that I thought. 
Yes, this is a very fine list indeed.” 

The consul’s face grew visibly brighter. 

“That is good hearing,” he cried. “I sha’n’t 
have done so badly after all ; but I wish very much 
that I had seen you a little sooner. Now, my 
friends,” he went on, addressing himself to the con- 
tractors, u you hear what this gentleman says. He 
is a friend of mine, and knows all about these mat- 
ters. You understand that you have a very valu- 
able cargo. Are your transports water-tight and 
seaworthy in every way ? ” 

“Certainly, sir,” said the spokesman of the three. 
“ I don’t believe you could find better ships between 
the Pillars and Tyre.” 

“Well, I hope they are what you say. But mind 


MUMMIUS 


341 


this, yon are answerable for the cargo. I paid your 
price, and I expect you to do your work. Mind 
this, if you lose them, you will replace them with 
others just as good. Isn’t that fair, Polybius?” 

“Certainly, sir,” said the Greek, preserving a 
quite masterly command of his countenance. 

This business concluded, the consul went on : 

“You have done me or tried to dome a good 
turn ; I only wish that you had come a few hours 
sooner. Now I should like to show you that I am 
grateful. You have heard, I suppose, of Diaeus? ” 

“ Not a word, sir,” replied the historian, “except 
that he disappeared after the battle.” 

“Well,” said Mummius, “he is dead. He poi- 
soned himself at some place in Arcadia. His prop- 
erty, of course, is confiscated. I am told that there 
are about thirty talents of silver and half a talent 
of gold. Whatever the amount, half of it is at your 
service.” 

“I thank you, sir,” returned Polybius, “but I 
don’t care to enrich myself with what has belonged 
to a countryman. Diaeus was no friend of mine, 
but I should not like it to be said that I have been 
a gainer by his death.” 

“You are an honest man,” cried the consul, 
“and I wish that there were more like you here, 
and, for the matter of that, at Rome. But can I do 
anything for you ? ” 


342 


LORDS OP THE WORLD 


“ Yes, sir, you can,” said Polybius. “ Let me use 
this money to redeem some of these poor creatures 
who are to be sold. I know many of them ; some I 
may almost call friends. It is heart-rending for one 
who has seen them as they were to see them as they 
are now.” 

“Good,” answered Mummius; “you shall have 
the whole of the money, and I will tell the quaestor 
to see that it goes as far as possible. There shall be 
no bidding against you. And now farewell ; but 
you and your young friend must dine with me to- 
day.” 


CHAPTER XXXII 

THE SLAVE-DEALER 

T HE entertainment which the consul provided for 
his guests was of the simplest and most frugal 
kind, in curious contrast with the costly plate on 
which it was served. His cook knew his tastes, 
which were those of the Sabine farming folk from 
whom he came, and catered for him accordingly ; 
but the furnishing of the table was naturally that 
of the place where he was quartered, the official 
residence of the chief magistrate of Corinth, and 


TIIE SLAVE-DEALER 


343 


this was filled with the finest specimens of the city’s 
famous ware. 1 

The repast ended, the quaestor, who had been one 
of the guests, explained to Polybius what Mummius 
had instructed him to do. “The consul,” he said, 
“lias commissioned me to use forty talents of sil- 
ver 2 in redeeming slaves. You are to draw up a 
list, and as the sale begins the day after to-morrow, 
you should lose no time in doing so. As to the 
price, he has instructed the official agent to value 
the persons selected, so they will not be actually 
put up for sale. More than this the consul did not 
feel he could do. ‘If I were to interfere with the 
prices,’ he said, 1 1 should be making a very dan- 
gerous precedent. It must all be done on strict 
business principles.’ A more scrupulously honour- 
able man than Lucius Mummius does not live, 
though it must be allowed that he does not know 
much about art. However, you will have fairly 
easy terms, I don’t doubt.” 

“I am greatly obliged to you,” said Polybius. 
“And now there is another thing in which you can 

1 This was made of an alloy known as Corinthian brass or bronze, and said 
to have been composed of gold, silver, and copper. In later times it was be- 
lieved to have been first made, and that by accident, at this very taking of 
Corinth, when gold, silver, and other metals were found to have been melted 
by the violent conflagration and to have run together ; but it had been known 
long before. 

a About £9,000. 


344 


LORDS OF THE WORLD 


help me. My young friend here and I have been 
talking the matter over, and we are agreed in want- 
ing to do something more in the same direction. 
He has been actually under the spear , 1 and I, though 
I have never gone through that experience, know 
something of the bitterness of being at another 
man’s bidding. Well, fate has dealt kindly with 
both of us, and we both want to show our grati- 
tude. Between us we can raise another forty talents, 
and we want to use it in the same way. Our idea 
is this : the money that comes from Diseus’ estate 
should, we think, be used on the public account. 
Our own we should employ as our private feelings 
may suggest. In the list that I shall draw up for 
the official agent I shall put the names of men whose 
official standing, or services to their country, or any 
other public reason, seem to call for their selection. 
In regard to our own money, we shall consider pri- 
vate friendship or acquaintance. How, can you 
help us in laying this out to the best advantage?” 

The quaestor reflected. “You must not go,” he 
said, after a pause, “ to the agent. I feel quite sure 
that the consul would not like it. I do not see that 
you can do anything better, or, indeed, anything 
else than approach one of the slave-dealers. The 
way of these sales, I may say of all sales, is pretty 


1 It was the Roman custom, and Polybius naturally uses Roman terms on 
this occasion, to set up a spear when an auction was going on. 


THE SLAVE-DEALER 


345 


much the same everywhere. There is a regular gang 
which has it all its own way. The members of it 
don’t bid against each other, except where they 
have a commission to purchase this or that lot. 
But when an outsider tries to get anything for him- 
self, they agree to run him up to a most extravagant 
price. Yes, you must get one of the dealers to take 
a friendly interest in you.” 

“And whom do you recommend ? ” asked Polyb- 
ius. 

“That is not so easy to say,” replied the quaestor. 
“ They are not a nice lot, as I daresay you know. 
Most of them would sell their own fathers and 
mothers. It is not an improving occupation. But, 
on the whole, I should recommend Judas the Jew. 
He has principles ; very queer principles they are, 
but still they are something. Yes, Judas is your 
man. One of my orderlies shall bring him to you 
early to-morrow.” 

Early the next day, accordingly, Judas presented 
himself, showing a curious contrast, with his slight, 
wiry figure and keen, intelligent face, to the stoutly 
built, stolid-looking soldier who accompanied him. 

“Well, gentlemen, what can I do for you?” he 
began. “There will be some bargains to be picked 
up, I daresay. But the really good things always 
fetch their price. There is never a glut of them.” 

Polybius had drawn up a list, which he proceeded 


346 


LORDS OF THE WORLD 


to hand to the Jew. He had put down the names, 
and, as far as he knew or could guess them, the 
ages of the persons whom he wished to purchase. 
The Jew’s eyes opened wider and wider as he read 
. it. 

“But what,” he asked, his astonishment over- 
coming for the moment his usual somewhat servile 
civility, “ what do you want with all these old men 
and women? They can’t all be your fathers and 
mothers, and uncles and aunts. Excuse me, gen- 
tlemen,” he added, recovering himself, “but this is 
not the sort of commission I am in the habit of get- 
ting from my customers.” 

Polybius explained, to the best of his power, his 
own and his friend’s motives. As the Jew listened 
a gentler expression came into his face. “By the 
God of my fathers!” he exclaimed, when the his- 
torian had finished, “ I have never come across such 
a thing in my life. I don’t mean that I haven’t 
known of sons buying back fathers and mothers 
and that sort of thing, but this is quite outside my 
experience. Well,” he went on with a smile, “you 
will at all events find that your fancy won’t cost 
you very dear. How much do you propose to 
spend?” 

Polybius named the sum. “But, of course,” he 
added, “we must consider your commission. Wliafc 
will that be on this amount ? ” 


THE SLAVE-DEALER 


347 


Judas meditated a while. “ By Abraham, Isaac, 
and Jacob,” he broke out after a time, “I won’t 
take a drachma. I have been about the world in 
this line of business for thirty years, and I have 
never seen anything like it. I should not have sup- 
posed it possible,” he muttered to himself in his own 
language, “ that these Gentile dogs should have 
thought of such a thing. Well, I must not shame 
Father Abraham by behaving worse than they do. 
No, gentlemen,” he went on, “I shall not charge 
anything for commission. This is a quite uncom- 
mon piece of business, and you must let me please 
myself by managing it in my own way. Well, you 
can get a whole ship-load of the old people for this 
money. Some of the young men will be more expen- 
sive. But the really costly articles are the young 
women, and I don’t see one on your list. Depend 
upon it, you shall have your money’s worth. There 
are some of the meanest scoundrels in the world in 
Corinth at this moment, but they know better than 
to bid against Judas.” 

When sundry details of business had been dis- 
posed of, the old Jew grew very communicative 
about his occupation. He had been a slave himself, 
carried away by some Syrian marauders in his child- 
hood from a village of Galilee. Bought by a sol- 
dier, a captain in the army of the third Antiochus, 
he had regained his liberty in the rout which fol- 


348 


LORDS OF THE WORLD 


lowed the victory of Magnesia. After this had 
come a period of service in the patriot armies raised 
by the Maccabee brothers. In this he gained some 
distinction, but he found himself destitute when a 
severe wound received at the battle of Elaim com- 
pelled him to give up the profession of arms. He 
had no relative in the world ; his native place had 
absolutely perished. A countryman offered him a 
clerk’s place. When he found that his new em- 
ployer was a dealer in slaves he felt a strange thrill 
of pleasure. He was to make his living out of the 
miseries of these heathen who had marred his own 
life. To his own people he never ceased to be ten- 
der and generous. To the rest of the world he 
seemed to be absolutely callous and heartless. On 
this occasion he related to his hearers experiences so 
horrible that their blood ran cold at hearing them. 
His comments on these were often curiously cyni- 
cal. “ What a piece of folly it was that Flamininus 
committed at Clielys ! ” he remarked, when some 
chance had brought the conversation round to that 
subject. Cleanor listened, we may be sure, with all 
his ears, when he caught the name. “In a fit of 
stupid passion he threw away at least fifty talents 
of good money. Imagine the absolute idiocy of a 
man who kills some scores of able-bodied men when 
he might have sold them ! What did he do it for ? 
For revenge? Didn’t he know that nine out of ten 


TIIE SLAVE-DEALER 


349 


would far sooner have been killed than made slaves 
of? Why, I always have to watch any spirited 
young fellow for the first month or so lest he should 
slip out of my hands. After that they seem to lose 
heart, and can’t even pluck up spirit enough to 
stab themselves. Of course the order to kill is 
never really carried out. The soldiers have a knack 
of stunning those whom they seem to kill. I have 
had some pretty cargoes of corpses who came to 
life again when they were safely out of the way. 
You give a soldier a hundred sesterces , 1 and you 
get a stout young fellow whom you can sell for five 
thousand.” 

Polybius and Cleanor had the satisfaction of see- 
ing their efforts crowned with even more success 
than they could have expected. The public agent 
had taken a very liberal view of his duties, and the 
Jew dealer had carried out his part of the business 
with great success. Nearly seven hundred of the 
oldest and most helpless victims of the siege were 
restored to freedom. It was but a small fraction 
of the miserable whole, but it was something to 
have done. None of the rescued captives knew the 
names of their benefactors, though somehow the 
secret leaked out afterwards, but the friends felt 
that their pains had been well bestowed and well 
rewarded when they stood by and marked, un* 

1 Something less than £1. 


350 


LORDS OF THE WORLD 


marked themselves, the happiness which they had 
been able to secure to their unfortunate compa- 
triots. 

If in this respect Polybius went, and was content 
to go, without the praises of his countrymen, there 
was another matter in the conduct of which he 
deservedly won almost universal applause. Some 
miserable sycophants — and sycophants were only 
too common among the Greeks of the time — pro- 
posed to Mummius that the statues of Philopcemen 
should be thrown down. He had been always, they 
alleged, an energetic opponent of Rome, and it was 
a contradiction that monuments erected in his hon- 
our should be permitted to stand now that Rome 
had finally triumphed. The consul, who, to tell the 
truth, had but the slightest acquaintance with ever 
recent history, was at first impressed by the argu- 
ment. This Philopcemen had been the chief of the 
Achaean League, and it was the Achaean League that 
had defended, or tried to defend, Corinth against 
him. 

Polybius, who, of course, knew what was medi- 
tated, begged to be allowed to defend the departed 
patriot, and Mummius consented to hear him. A 
kind of impromptu court was constituted. The con- 
sul and his quaestor, with the legates or generals 
of division, formed the bench of judges. Polybius, 
who spoke with a depth of personal feeling that 


THE SLAVE-DEALER 


851 


touched the hearts of all who heard him, delivered 
a most eloquent and convincing apology for the 
venerable man whom lie had once been privileged 
to call his friend. He allowed that Philopcemen had 
struggled for the independence of Greece as long as 
that independence was possible. What honest 
Greek, he asked, could have done less? But he 
had always been an honourable enemy, and as soon 
as he saw that the true interests of his country de- 
manded it he had always been a loyal ally. The 
judges gave a unanimous verdict in his favour. 

“He was an honest man,” said the consul, with 
emphasis. “ His statue shall remain standing here 
and everywhere, whatever may be thrown down, 
and as honest men are not too common, it shall be 
set up in every city of Greece.’ ’ 

It was now time for the friends to part. Polybius 
had received a commission from Home to arrange 
the affairs of the other cities of the Peloponnese, 
and he would gladly have taken his young friend 
with him in the capacity of secretary. But Cleanor 
felt irresistibly called, and by more motives than 
one, to Italy. There awaited him there an honour- 
able and lucrative employment, which would be all 
the more welcome because it was wholly remote 
from the scenes, so full of painful associations, 
through which he had passed during the last two 
years of his life. This, as my readers will remember, 


352 


LORDS OF THE WORLD 


was the translation of the famous treatise on Agri- 
culture. And he never forgot for a moment that 
Italy now contained the two beings who were dear- 
est to him in the world. Corinth, which the savage 
decree of the Senate had doomed to the flames, both 
were anxious to leave without delay. They parted 
on the deck of the Ino , the ship which carried 
Polybius to Sicyon, the first city which he was to 
visit in his official capacity, and which was to take 
Cleanor further westward to Rome. ‘‘Farewell,” 
said Polybius. “I shall be busy with my history 
when these affairs are settled. Remember that 
you have promised to criticise it. I shall not like 
to give it to the world till it has had your ap- 
proval.” 


CHAPTER XXXIII 

TO ITALY 

T HE Ino had a quick and prosperous voyage. 

But though Cleanor arrived safely at his des- 
tination, he learned, not without astonishment, that 
he had been running a very considerable danger of 
having a different ending to his travels. The Ro- 
man Republic was extending her borders in every 
direction, and was levelling to the dust the cities 


TO ITALY 


353 


which had disputed with her the empire of the 
world, but she suffered herself to be insulted and 
her citizens and allies to be maltreated by insig- 
nificant enemies. While her legions and fleets were 
winning great victories abroad, her own coasts were 
harried by pirates. Near Ithaca the Ino picked up 
a boat in which were three sailors reduced to the 
last stage of exhaustion by hunger and thirst. The 
poor fellows, who were almost unconscious when 
they were taken on board, had a piteous story to 
tell when they had recovered sufficient strength to 
speak. They had been drifting about for nine 
days, and were the survivors of a company of nine, 
the crew of a trader of Patrse which was bound 
with a cargo of wine for Tarentum. 

“We were overhauled,’’ said the captain, who 
was one of the three, “ when we had accomplished 
half our voyage, by a Cilician pirate galley. They 
took what they wanted of my cargo, scuttled my 
ship, and being, for some reason or other, in high 
good-humour, instead of making us walk the plank, 
as is their common custom, let us take our chance 
in our boat, and even gave us a keg of water and 
a bag of biscuits. This was my first venture on my 
own account,” said the man, with tears in his eyes, 
“ and I have lost everything I had in the world. 
We pay taxes to the Romans ; why don’t they keep 

the seas safe for us ? ” 

23 


354 


LORDS OF THE WORLD 


“Why, indeed? ” said the captain of the Ino. 
“Things are far worse now,” he continued, address- 
ing himself to Cleanor, “than they were when I 
first began to sail these seas some thirty years ago. 
They used to be fairly well kept in those days by 
the Rhodian ships. It was very seldom that the 
pirates ever came west of Cyprus. But then Rhodes 
began to go down the hill. She was ruined by 
Delos being made a free port, and could not afford 
to keep up her fleet. Since then things have been 
going from bad to worse. You wouldn't believe, 
sir, the things that have happened almost in the 
sight of Rome. Two years ago half of a praetor’s 
establishment was carried off as it was on its way 
along the coast-road from Barium to Brundisium, 
and it was only by good luck that they did not lay 
hands upon the great man himself. He happened 
to have gone on in advance instead of being be- 
hind, as was usual. Perhaps if they had caught 
him something might have been done. As it is, 
nobody seems to care.” 

The next day the Ino herself had what looked 
like a narrow escape. At daybreak the look-out 
man descried in the offing a craft of suspicious- 
looking build, long, and low in the water. It was 
then almost a dead calm, and if the stranger was a 
pirate, as seemed only too likely, her long sweeps 
would soon bring her dangerously near. “ We will 


TO ITALY 


355 


have a fight for it,” said the captain, as he inspect- 
ed liis stock of arms. 

Happily the occasion to use them never arrived. 
A brisk breeze sprang up as the sun rose higher, 
and the Ino , which was an excellent sailer, soon 
left the strange ship far behind. The same evening 
she was moored to one of the quays in the harbour 
of Brundisium. By noon next day Cleanor was 
well on his way along the great Appian Road to 
Rome. 

It was yet early in the autumn, the unheal thiest 
time of the year, then as now, for the Italian 
capital, and the city was empty, as far at least 
as its wealthier inhabitants were concerned. The 
translation committee, however, was about to com- 
mence its work, which was considered to be urgent. 
Scipio, with the thoughtful kindness which was 
characteristic of him, had placed a villa of his own 
near Ostia at the disposal of the members, and they 
were able to devote themselves to their task under 
favourable conditions of health and quiet. Under 
these pleasant circumstances the work progressed 
rapidly. Cleanor’ s assistance was found to be of 
the greatest value. He was now equally familiar 
with the three languages, Carthaginian, Greek, and 
Latin. The first two had been spoken almost in- 
differently in his native town ; the third he had 
learned grammatically in his childhood, and he had 


356 


LORDS OF THE WORLD 


since acquired the colloquial use of it. It is easy 
to understand how useful an educated man, who 
had had these unusual advantages, could be in deal- 
ing with a book which was largely concerned with 
common things and the affairs of everyday life. 
Not one of his colleagues united in himself so many 
qualifications. 

The time, taken up as it was with this occupa- 
tion, passed quickly, and, on the whole, pleasant- 
ly enough. Still, the continuous labour, and the 
sedentary life, so unlike the continuous activity in 
which he had spent the preceding months, began 
to tell upon his health and spirits, and he was glad 
when the approach of the Holidays of Saturn 1 prom- 
ised an interval of rest and, possibly, a change of 
scene. It was with no small delight that early in 
December he received a letter from the younger 
Scipio. It was as follows : 

L. Cornelius Scipio to Ms friend Cleanor , heart- 
ily greeting. 

This is but the third day since I arrived in 
Italy , and I hasten to make sure that we should 
meet as soon as possible. My Aunt Cornelia , from 
whose villa at Misenum I am now writing , invites 

1 The “ Holidays of Saturn ” ( Saturnalia ) occurred in the early part of 
the latter half of December. They extended to as many as seven days. 
It is not improbable that they were, in a way, carried on by the Christ- 
mas festivities. 


AT MISENIJM 


357 


you, as I write at Tier request, to spend here the ap- 
proaching holiday. She desires me to say that she 
now hears for the first time where you are and 
what you are doing. Other things concerning you 
have been told her, not without much praise, by 
some whose name I need not mention. Come, there- 
fore, as soon as circumstances permit. That you 
will come welcome to many, and especially to me, be 
assured. Farewell ! 


CHAPTER XXXIV 


AT MISENUM 


ORNELIA, the “Mother of the Gracchi,” was 



\J at this time not far from fifty years of age, 
but retained by favour of nature, often so capricious 
in what she gives or takes away, much of the beauty 
of youth. Left a widow with a numerous family — 
she had borne twelve children to her husband, but 
all had not survived — she had found a royal suit- 
or in Ptolemy, king of Egypt. This suit it had 
probably not caused her any effort to decline. A 
daughter of the great Cornelian house would have 
disdained in any case an alliance with so doubtful a 
race as the Ptolemies, and this particular Ptolemy, 
whose bloated appearance had earned him the name 


358 


LORDS OF THE WORLD 


of Physcon, was a degenerate scion of it. But 
Cornelia had had serious troubles. Of her twelve 
children two only were now alive, Tiberius, now a 
lad of seventeen, and Caius, a child of five. Both, 
indeed, gave the fairest promise ; the elder, though 
he had but lately assumed the manly gown, had 
exhausted such education as Roman teachers could 
then supply, and was already an accomplished 
rhetorician ; the younger was a boy of singular 
beauty and intelligence. But Cornelia, a remark- 
ably clear-sighted woman, had already begun to 
view with alarm the rapid development of Tiberius’s 
character. The young man’s political tendencies 
were strongly marked, and they seemed likely to 
bring him into dangerous collision with the aristo- 
cratic traditions of his mother’s house. As for 
Caius, he was self-willed and imperious to an ex- 
traordinary degree. Still, no mother could have 
been prouder of her children, as none certainly could 
have been more devoted to them. 

At this particular time, however, when Clcanor 
paid his first visit to the villa at Misenum, all was 
brightness and gayety. Theoxena and her daughter 
had learned by this time to feel themselves thor- 
oughly at home in Cornelia’s hospitable house. The 
elder woman had suffered so much in the past that 
the best happiness which could be hoped for her 
was peace ; but Daphne had blossomed out into a 


AT MISENUM 


359 


most attractive personality. There was a peculiar 
radiance about her beauty, which had all the greater 
charm because the girl’s own disposition and the 
gracious example of her hostess, a very pearl among 
women, tempered it with a certain air of virginal 
reserve. Cleanor she met at first with her old 
sisterly frankness, but there was an ardour in the 
young man’s glance, and a thrill in his voice — 
though he vainly attempted to subdue them into 
the greetingof a respectful affection — which seemed 
to alarm her. As for Cleanor, after the first day 
spent in her company, he could doubt no longer as 
to the real nature of his feelings. Daphne would 
be thenceforward the one woman in the world for 
him. 

The holiday, which was prolonged to the begin- 
ning of the new year, passed only too quickly. The 
days were spent either in hare - hunting — larger 
game was not to be found in a region already 
thickly populated — or in excursions on the water, 
which were favoured by weather that, though it 
was the depth of winter, was remarkably calm and 
warm. Possibly the most delightful expedition of 
the season was the ascent of Vesuvius, then clothed 
almost to the summit with lovely woods and giving 
no sign of the hidden forces which, two centuries 
later, were to spread desolation over the fairest 
region of Italy. 


360 


LORDS OF THE WORLD 


The evenings were begun by a meal, simply yet 
elegantly served, at which the whole party as- 
sembled, even the little Caius being allowed to be 
present for at least a time. The meal over, there 
was no lack of entertainment. Tiberius was an ac- 
complished reciter, and could give one of Terence’s 
comedies with an artistic variety of voice and em- 
phasis. Cleanor charmed the company with a pas- 
sage from Homer, from Pindar, or from one of the 
great Athenian dramatists. Sometimes, by special 
request, he would dance the Pyrrhic dance, a pas- 
time which in sterner Roman society would have 
more than savoured of frivolity. And now and 
then Daphne was persuaded to sing to the lute an 
exquisite little lyric from Stesichorus. 

The last day of the year, which was also to be 
the last of the most delightful of visits, Cleanor de- 
termined to make as long as possible. Rising as 
soon as the first streaks of dawn began to show 
themselves in the sky, he began to explore more 
thoroughly than he had before an opportunity of 
doing, the beautifully ordered gardens which sur- 
rounded the villa. Following a path of velvet 
sward, sheltered on either side by shrubberies of 
box-wood, he came to a spot which gave him a wide 
Xwospect over the lovely bay of Naples. He noticed, 
but in the most casual w r ay, the figure of a gardener, 
who was busy, as it seemed, in trimming the sur- 


AT MISENUM 


361 


rounding shrubs, the whole spot, except on that side 
which fronted the sea, being protected from the 
wind b}^ a dense growth of box and laurel, arbutus 
and bay. 

He threw himself down on a rustic bench and 
gazed on the scene before him. He was looking 
westward, and the sea at his feet lay in shadow, a 
dark purple in colour. In the distance the sun was 
just touching with golden light the crags of Pro- 
chyta and of the more remote Inarime. Fora time 
the beauty of the scene wholly occupied him, for 
nature stirred the hearts of the men of those days 
even as it stirs ours, though they had only begun 
to give their feelings articulate expression. 

Then his thoughts recurred to what was the 
dominant emotion of the time with him, his love for 
Daphne. How, he asked himself, how should he 
make it known ? How should he approach her ? 
To speak directly, at least in the first instance, was 
not the custom of his race, though doubtless love, 
there as elsewhere, made exceptions of his own to 
the severest rule. Through her mother ? But Tlie- 
oxena was, he knew, only too thoroughly devoted 
to him. To her his wish would be a command ; she 
would make it a matter of filial obedience with her 
daughter, and he wanted the voluntary submission 
that was wholly free. Through Cornelia? But 
would she favour such an alliance ? She was a noble 


362 


LORDS OF THE WORLD 


of the nobles, filled with the keenest sympathy for 
the people, but profoundly conscious of the social 
difference between her class and them, and with her 
own class she would certainly rank the well-born 
Cleanor. 

“ Well,” he said to himself, after a pause of reflec- 
tion, which did not seem to make the matter clearer, 
“these things will settle themselves. I love her, 
and I think she loves me, so that nothing will keep 
us apart.” And he broke into the beautiful choric 
song of the Antigone — for it was his habit, as it is 
the habit of all true lovers of poetry, thus to inter- 
rupt his solitary musings — 

“ O love invincible ! ” 

After this came a stave of Alcaeus, and after this 
again a piece of melodious tenderness from Sappho. 

As he turned to retrace his steps to the house, 
for he had risen early, and the keen morning air 
made him feel that he had fasted long, he was 
startled to hear his name called from behind him ; 
not the name by which he was known to the world, 
but the pet family name, which he had not heard 
since the home of his childhood had vanished in 
fire and blood. 

“ Cle,” said the voice, and its tones seemed to be 
strangely familiar. He turned ; no one was within 
sight but the gardener. The man had dropped the 


AT MISENUM 


3G3 


shears, and stood with his hands stretched out in a 
supplicating gesture. 

“ What is it ? ” he cried ; “ what or whom do you 
want? ” He took two or three steps forward, and 
as he approached there seemed to be something 
strangely familiar in the figure before him. 

“ Yes, it is — ■” and the speaker swayed to and 
fro for a moment, and then fell unconscious to the 
ground. The wide-brimmed hat, which had been 
drawn down low over the face, to conceal, as it 
seemed, the features, was displaced by the fall, and 
revealed the graceful contour of the forehead, and the 
shapely head covered with short curls of sunny gold. 

“Great Zeus!” cried Cleanor, as he lifted the 
prostrate figure from the ground. “Great Zeus! 
it* I am not mad or dreaming, this is Cleone come to 
life again.” 

Close by a tiny spring trickled down from a rock. 
Cleanor held his cap beneath it till it was half full, 
and dashed the water in his sister’s face. She drew 
two or three deep breaths, and then opened her 
eyes. Vacant at first, for she could not remember 
where she was or what had happened, they soon be- 
came radiant with happy light. 

“Dearest brother,” she murmured, “have I 
found you again ? But come to my little hut — it is 
close by. There you shall hear my story, and we 
will consider what is to be done.” 


3G4 


LORDS OF THE WORLD 


Briefly put, for in the actual telling it was inter- 
rupted, as may be supposed, with numberless ex- 
clamations and questions, Cleone’s story was this: 

“ I remember nothing after I was struck down by 
a blow from a soldier’s sword in the market-place 
of Clielys, till I found myself in the hold of a ship 
at sea.” 

“ Then you were not killed,” cried Cleanor. 

“It seems not,” said the girl, with a merry laugh, 
“for even were I a Eurydice there was no Orpheus 
to bring me back from the house of Hades.” 

“Ah!” said the young man, “now I begin to 
understand what old Judas meant. He said, you 
must know, that they bribed the soldiers not to kill 
the prisoners, but to stun them.” 

“Well, as I was saying, I found myself in the 
hold of a ship which was evidently making very 
bad weather. I was lying with my head close to 
the deck, and I could hear two men talking just 
over me. There was such a roaring of the wind, 
and such a creaking of timbers, that I lost a good 
deal of what they said. Still I could make out 
something. Someone — I supposed it was the captain 
— was cursing his ill-luck. ‘ Here,’ he said, ‘is a 
bit of cursed spite — as good a speculation as ever I 
made in my life all comes to nothing. There are 
fifty as likely young fellows as I have had the 
handling of since I went into the business five-and- 


AT MISENUM 


365 


twenty years ago down there, and what is going to 
become of them? They are worth two hundred 
thousand sesterces if they are worth one, and now 
the whole lot is going to the bottom.’ 4 What is 
the odds % ’ growled the other, whom I took to be the 
steersman. 4 What is the odds if you are going to % ’ 
4 1 tell you what,’ said the other again after a pause, 
4 you should give the fellows a chance. Open the 
hatches, and let them get to land if they can.’ 
4 What is the good ? ’ answered the captain, sulkily; 
4 they may drown for all I care.’ 4 Nay, but you 
talk like a fool. If they live, they are still yours, 
and you may get hold of them, or, at least, of some 
of them again.’ 4 True,’ said the owner, 4 that is so. 
They shall have a chance.’ A minute or two after- 
wards the hatches were opened, and the fellow 
cried, 4 Up with you as quick as you can. The ship 
hasn’t many minutes to float, and if you don’t want 
to go to the bottom with her, now is your time.’ 
About twoscore out of the fifty clambered upon 
deck. Some had never recovered from the blow 
which had stunned them — it can’t be an easy thing 
to give just the right sort of stroke— and some, I 
take it, were so far gone with sea-sickness that they 
did not care to move. As for me, I felt a little 
dazed ; sea-sickness never troubles me, as you know. 
We got up on deck only just in time ; the ship was 
already close upon the rocks. The next minute she 


366 


LORDS OF THE WORLD 


struck. Wliat happened to the crew and to my 
companions is more than I can say ; all I know is 
that I have never seen one of them since, except, 
indeed, some dead bodies that I found on the shore 
next morning. I had a desperate struggle to get 
to land, and, indeed, I never should have done it, 
though, as you know, I am no bad swimmer, but 
that an extra big wave threw me up almost high and 
dry, and I had just strength enough to crawl away 
out of reach of the sea. The rest of the night — it 
was about the middle of the third watch, as near as 
I could guess, when this happened — I passed in a 
thicket in a bed of dry leaves, where I slept as 
soundly as ever I did in my life. The next day I 
rigged myself out with clothes that I took from the 
dead men on the shore — it was no robbery, I thought, 
poor fellows ! I found some money, too, in their 
pockets. Following a road which led inland, I 
came to a village where there was a tavern. Here 
I got some bread and a draught of sour wine. I 
thought it safest, I should tell you, to pretend to 
be deaf and dumb, and made them to understand 
by signs that I wanted something to eat and drink. 
I paid for what I had, but was careful to let the 
people know that I had very little, for I made up 
the few coppers that were wanted from one place 
and another. Then I got them to understand that 
I wanted to work for my living. First I made as 


AT MISENUM 


367 


if I were digging, then as if I were sawing wood. 
They happened to want someone, for it was a busy 
time of the year, and they saw that they could get 
the work done very cheaply, for they gave me no 
pay besides my food and lodging in an outhouse, 
which, happily, I had to myself. Here I stopped 
for about a month. Then I overheard some people 
talking of a great lady who lived in the neighbour- 
hood. She was a widow, they said, and managed 
everything — house and garden and farm — all by 
herself. That, I thought to myself, is the place for 
me. Perhaps some day I shall be able to tell her 
my story. However, the day has never come. I got 
employment just in the same way as I did at the 
tavern, and I have the little hut to myself, where I 
look after some fowls and pigeons. But, somehow, 
I could never summon up courage to speak. How- 
ever, I always went on hoping and hoping, and 
now, dearest Cleanor, that you are come, all will be 
right.” 

“Yes,” said the young man, “and the first thing, 
my dear Cleone, will be to get you some proper 
clothes.” 

The girl blushed. 

“By Castor ! ” she said, “ I had almost forgotten 
that I was dressed as a man. But how will you 
manage it ?” 

“Easily enough,” replied her brother. “The 


368 


LORDS OF THE WORLD 


lady Cornelia has an excellent housekeeper with 
whom I am in high favour ; I don’t doubt that she 
will let me have everything I want. But I must go ; 
the sooner we manage this the better.” 

Poor Cleone, woman-like, felt the courage which 
had never failed before desert her when she had to 
part even for half an hour with her long-lost brother. 
She clung to him, and wept piteously. “Don’t 
leave me,” she sobbed. 

The young man, to whom this sort of thing was 
quite a new experience, looked at her with aston- 
ishment. “What, Cleone, is the meaning of this 
after all you have gone through? ” 

“Yes,” she said, smiling through her tears, “I 
am a fool. And besides,” she went on, looking at 
her dirty and ragged garments, “I do want some 
decent clothes.” 

The good Pollia, who acted as wardrobe-keeper, 
mother-of-the-maids, and housekeeper in general to 
Cornelia, was not a little astonished when Cleanor 
asked her to supply him with the various articles 
of a young lady’s toilet, not so numerous in those 
days, it should be mentioned, as they are now. 
He was a great favourite, however, and she asked 
no questions, probably thinking that some joke was 
being meditated. She searched accordingly among 
the treasures in her charge, and had no difficulty in 
finding all that was wanted. 



HALF AN HOUR AFTERWARDS CLEONE EMERGED AS A 
BRILLIANT YOUNG BEAUTY 



AT MISENUM 


369 


Fashions did not change in those days as they 
change under the vagaries of modern taste. Women 
were careful, indeed, perhaps more careful than 
they are now, to suit their dress to their age. But 
what the mother had worn at twenty, the daughter, 
reaching the same years, might wear without even 
the suspicion of oddity, and the garments might be 
handed down, if they were of the quality that was 
suited to so long a life, to yet another generation. 

Cleanor was soon making his way with an armful 
of suitable apparel to the gardener’s hut. Cleone, 
who seemed to be bent on making up as quickly as 
possible for her enforced separation from all fem- 
inine vanities, received the precious burden witli 
a shriek of delight. When she emerged, half an 
hour afterwards, from her hut, it would have passed 
all human skill to recognize in the brilliant young 
beauty who held Cleanor’ s hand the shabby deaf- 
mute who for many months past had plied his soli- 
tary task in Cornelia’s gardens. 

All these confidences and preparations had taken 
time, and the house party had just assembled for 
the midday meal when the pair walked into the 
dining-room. Never since Misenum got its name 
had the place seen a more startling sight. At first 
it seemed as if Cleanor had found his double, for 
brother and sister were curiously alike. But the 
time that had passed since they were so tragically 
24 


370 


LORDS OF THE WORLD 


parted had changed them not a little. The young 
man had grown in height, and his frame, knit by 
the continual activities of an adventurous life, had 
developed the ampler proportions that became his 
sex. The girl was his very image, but now on a 
somewhat smaller scale. A fairer couple had never 
been seen in Italy. 

“ Cleanor has turned into Apollo,” cried the little 
Caius, “and he has brought Diana with him.” 

As for the rest of the company, they gazed with 
an astonishment that was almost stupefaction on 
the scene. Cornelia was the first to recover herself. 
She advanced to greet the new-comer. u You are 
welcome,” she said, “for your brother’s sake — for 
Cleanor must surely be your brother — and, I am sure, 
for your own.” Then Theoxena threw herself at the 
girl’s feet and clasped her knees. “ It is Cleone,” 
she cried. “The gods have nothing more to give me.” 
Little Cephalus kissed her hand, and Daphne, some- 
what shy at first of the splendid stranger, was not 
long behind with an affectionate greeting. 

“Not a word,” said Cornelia, “till you have 
eaten and drunk. For the present,” she said, smil- 
ing at the little Caius, “ they will have to be con- 
tent without ambrosia and nectar.” 

The meal ended, Cornelia heard the whole story. 
Her mind, always eminently practical, discerned at 
once the first thing that had to be done. 


THE WORLD WELL LOST 


371 


“We must assure without delay,” she said,“ this 
young lady’s civil status. At present it would be 
very perplexing to say who or what she is.” 

A message was immediately despatched to the 
nearest town with a letter requiring the immediate 
presence of the resident notary. He arrived before 
sunset, and, by a formal act of emancipation, Cle- 
one, slave of Cornelia, was made free. 

“ Pardon me, my daughter,” she said, “ if I 
speak of you as my slave. And indeed my title is 
a very weak one ; no one, however, is likely to 
make out a better. Meanwhile, as far as I can se- 
cure your freedom, you are free.” 


CHAPTER XXXV 


THE WORLD WELL LOST 


LEANOR had been back in Rome some four 



\J months, and had nearty completed his work 
with the committee of translation, when he re- 
ceived a visit from the young Scipio. The latter 
had not been one of the party at Misenum during 
the holidays of Saturn, having been summoned to 
Sicily to till a casual vacancy on the staff of the 
qusestor in that province. 

“Well,” said Cleanor, after an affectionate ex- 


372 


LORDS OF THE WORLD 


change of greetings, “ and how did you like your 
quaestor’s work in Sicily ? ” 

“ I found it most interesting,” replied the young 
man, “and, I must say, most agreeable. My name 
made me most welcome everywhere. You can 
hardly imagine what an impression my uncle’s 
action in giving back the statues to the cities has 
made on the whole island. The simple fact that I 
was his nephew was enough to make them almost 
worship me. I happened to be at Agrigentum when 
the famous Bull was solemnly put back into its 
place. If I had been the founder of the city come 
to life again I could not have been treated with 
more respect. I should be quite ashamed to de- 
scribe all the oratings and crownings and embrac- 
ings that I went through. In fact, if I had any 
complaint to make, it would be that to a modest 
young man like myself the honours were just a lit- 
tle overpowering.” 

“And what,” asked Cleanor, “are you going to 
do now ? ” 

“That,” replied the young Roman, “ is just what 
I want to talk to you about. Lentulus, who is pro- 
consul of Sicily, as I daresay you know, has ex- 
pressed himself very handsomely about my services, 
and, what is more, has offered to propose me as one 
of the regular quaestors for next year. This is all 
the more satisfactory because he is no kinsman of 


THE WORLD WELL LOST 


373 


mine, and in fact is not on the same side in politics 
as my uncle. If my uncle were to nominate me, I 
should probably get my election, but this will make 
it quite certain. ” 

“Well,” said Cleanor, “ of course you won’t 
hesitate to accept. I give you my congratulations 
in advance. It will be the first step in the ladder, 
and we shall see you climb, as your forbears have 
climbed before you, to be sedile, praetor, consul.” 

“ Yes, yes,” said the young man, “ that is so. It 
is the first step, and I could not take it under better 
auspices, but — ” and he paused, looking like any- 
thing but the ambitious young man before whom 
the greatest career in the world was opening. 

“ What is the hindrance, then ?” asked the young 
Greek. 

Scipio’s embarrassment seemed to increase. “I 
have been to my Aunt Cornelia’s at Misenum,” he 
added, after a long pause. 

“And what was her advice?” asked Cleanor. 

Surely she had nothing to say against it. I should 
even have thought, as far as I know anything of 
your Roman politics, that she would have been 
especially well pleased to see you come out in 
public life under the auspices of Lentulus.” 

“Oh, yes,” returned the young Roman. “That 
was exactly her view. But — ” and the speaker 
paused in still greater embarrassment than ever. 


374 


LORDS OF THE WORLD 


“Well — I must say it sooner or later — I have seen 
your sis ter.’ ’ 

“ My sister ! What has my sister got to do with ' 
it?” asked Cleanor, in utter bewilderment. “I 
don’t suppose you asked her advice, and if } 7 ou did, 
she would not hinder you, I should suppose, from 
serving your country.” 

“Well,” said Scipio, U I did ask her, though not 
exactly for her advice, and she said exactly what 
you supposed she would say.” 

“Then where is the difficulty? You want the 
thing yourself ; all your friends advise you to take 
the chances. What is it that hinders ? For heaven’s 
sake, my friend, do explain what you mean, for it 
is quite past my understanding.” 

“ Then, Cleanor, listen ; if I offend you, as I can 
hardly help doing, be patient with me. First and 
foremost, then, I love your sister Cleone. It is the 
dearest wish of my heart to make her my wife, and I 
think, that is, I hope, that she cares a little for me.” 

“I am delighted to hear it,” cried the young 
Greek, as he sprang up and seized his friend’s 
hands. “ I am delighted to hear it. There isn’t a 
better or braver girl in the world, if I may say so 
much of my own sister. You have heard her story, 
of course. Well, she deserves a good husband, if 
ever a girl did, and I am glad to think that she is 
likely to find one.” 


TILE WORLD WELL LOST 


375 


“ I am delighted to hear you say so, though I 
don’t feel anything like worthy of her. But now 
comes what I find it so hard to say. Cleone is a 
match for anyone in the world, in birth as well as 
in herself. But, in the eyes of our law, she is not 
a match for a Roman citizen. By some accursed 
chance — though, indeed, but for this said chance I 
should never have seen her — she was made a slave, 
and is now a freed woman. Out of that status 
nothing, as far as I know, can raise her, and being 
in that status , she cannot be my wife. In one sense 
there may be a marriage between us, but it would 
not be a marriage that would give her the rights 
and privileges of a Roman matron. It would not 
be a marriage which would open to our children 
the career of a Roman citizen. There, my dear 
friend, the murder is out ; that is the bare fact, and 
if it seems an insult to you— and an insult, I fear, 
it must seem — pray remember that it is not of my 
making or doing.” 

“ My dear friend,” said Cleanor, “I won’t pretend 
that what you have said hasn’t hurt me. We have 
always been accustomed to think ourselves as good 
as anybody in point of birth and standing. In fact, 
we Greeks are not a little exclusive, and it is a 
blow to be told that we* are ourselves outside the 
social pale. But for you, I assure you I haven’t a 
feeling that is not all friendship. I don’t draw 


376 


LORDS OF THE WORLD 


back from a single word of wliat I said about my 
sister. Still we must consider ; and, of course, be- 
fore all tilings, she must know.” 

“Yes, she must know,” replied Scipio. “Of 
course I have said nothing. She does not know — 
so far at least as anything that I have said is con- 
cerned — that I love her.” 

“Well,” said Cleanor, “we will leave that then 
for the present. Now listen to what I have been 
thinking about myself and my own future. I am 
in love, too, and you have seen the lady. Can you 
guess who it is ? ” 

“Guess!” said Scipio, with a smile. “There is 
no need of guessing. I have known it a long time. 
Well, I will allow that your Daphne is the fairest 
woman in the world — with, of course, one excep- 
tion.” 

“ Well, when a man is in my plight, he naturally, 
if he is worthy of being called a man, begins to 
think of his future. And what future have I here 
in Italy? I have property enough to live upon, 
but that is all. But what career is there before 
me? I have turned the matter over in my mind, 
and I have asked for information from others. 
There seems to be positively but one thing for a 
man in my situation to do. I might become a 
teacher of rhetoric. That is the one solitary em- 
ployment open to a Greek stranger, and a very 


THE WORLD WELL LOST 


377 


precarious employment too. The old-fashioned 
nobles don’t like Greek rhetoricians, and it is quite 
possible that some fine day I might find myself 
banished . 1 That, you will allow, is not a prospect 
with which a man will readily content himself.” 

“And do you see any way out of it?” asked 
Scipio. 

“ I have dreams,” replied the young Greek, 
“ and I have always had, and the dreams of to-day 
fit on curiously enough to the dreams of the past. 
When I was a boy I had an ambition to be some- 
thing beyond the chief citizen of Chelys. As for 
Carthage, though no one thought that her end was 
so near, I knew that there was nothing there to 
satisfy me, even if her honours had been open to 
me. But there is a world beyond Carthage, and 
even beyond Rome. It is of that that I dreamed 
then, and of which I dream still. Say, Scipio, my 
friend, shall we go and look for it? ” 

The young men had a long talk on the subject. 
Cleanor poured out the store of knowledge which, 
with an enthusiasm that dated back to very early 
years indeed, he had gathered from every available 
source. There was, of course, a plentiful admixt- 
ure of fiction, or fact so transmuted and idealized 
that it almost had become fiction. There were 

1 The Greek teachers of rhetoric were actually banished thirty years after 
this date. 


378 


LORDS OF THE WORLD 


legends and traditions, travellers’ tales, and yarns 
of adventurous seamen ; but there was also a sol- 
id substratum of truth. Cleanor’s sheet-anchor, 
so to speak, was the famous Circumnavigation of 
Hanno . 1 That famous voyager had beyond all 
doubt passed into the great western ocean through 
the Pillars of Hercules, and turning southward had 
seen many a strange and beautiful land, aye, and 
lived to bring back the report of them. All these 
things the ardent Greek dwelt upon with an enthu- 
siasm which at last fired the duller fancy of the 
Roman. Scipio left the house more than half per- 
suaded. 

A few days afterwards Cleanor, having fairly 
finished his part in the work which had so long 
occupied his leisure, went down with Scipio to 
Misenum. They had agreed to say nothing of their 
scheme till they had heard what their hostess had 
to say to it. Cornelia was doubtful. Cleanor in- 
deed had her fullest sympathy when he declared 
that he could not be content with any career that 
fate had left open for him, and that he must seek 
one elsewhere. It was about her great-nepliew that 
she doubted. She could not bring herself to think 
him right when he proposed to relinquish his Roman 
birthright. Not for any woman, not though she 

1 The Periplus of Hanno, probably written early in the fourth cen- 
tury B.C. 


THE WORLD WELL LOST 


379 


was, as Cleone, one among ten thousand, should a 
man give up the splendid opportunities of service 
and reward which Rome held forth to her sons. 

The young man found an unexpected ally in his 
cousin Tiberius. “My duty,” he said, “keeps me 
here ; but if I could choose my own way, I would 
join your search. Sometimes I seem to see further 
into the future than is commonly given to man, 
and what I see is dark with the shadow of disaster 
and death. Our great kinsman has won splendid 
victories for Rome, and has others to win, but I 
doubt whether the gods have not granted these 
victories to our country more in wrath than in love. 
When we have trodden all our foes and rivals 
under our feet we shall turn our swords upon our- 
selves. The wealth of the world that is pouring 
into our treasury will kindle to a deadlier rage the 
eternal quarrel between those who have and those 
who have not. My lot is cast in with the unhappy. 
The love of woman is not for me ; I shall not be 
able even to keep the affection of my kinsfolk. 
But I would not avoid my fate, even if I could. 
You are happier. It would be as great a folly for 
you to stay, as it would be a crime for me to 
depart.” 

After this, Cornelia, who was always overawed 
when the deeper nature of her son revealed itself, 
silently withdrew her opposition. The elder Scipio, 


380 


LORDS OF THE WORLD 


who would almost certainly have used all his 
influence to bring it to nothing, was fortunately 
absent from Italy. Daphne put no hindrance in 
the way. She had secretly worshipped the magnifi- 
cent hero — for such he seemed to her — who had 
rescued her and hers from the deadliest peril, and 
was ready to follow him if he willed it, to the ends 
of the world, and, if it might be, even beyond it. 

But Scipio found Cleone far more difficult to deal 
with. She was very far from disdaining his love, 
but it filled her with something like rage to think 
that for her sake he should abandon his career. It 
was partly that her pride was touched. That she, 
the long-descended daughter of heroes, who reck- 
oned Ion himself among her far-away ancestors, 
should bring humiliation and disability on the man 
to whom she gave her hand ! The bare idea was 
beyond endurance. Such love was a disgrace to 
both of them. She peremptorily commanded her 
suitor to forget it. But this stern mood did not 
last. She was moved not a little by the sight of 
Daphne’s happiness. She was conscious of a crav- 
ing in her own heart for a happiness of her own. 
She had herself suffered so much, and it was hard, 
when at last the sunshine came, to have to shut it 
out, and still to sit in the darkness. Then the 
strongest influences were brought to bear upon her. 
Her brother was urgent in his entreaties that she 


BEYONI> THE SUNSET 


381 


should not mar their plan. And her refusal would 
mar it. He could not go if she stayed behind. And 
the sight of Scipio’s suffering touched her, for in- 
deed she loved him tenderly. In the end she gave 
way. 


CHAPTEK XXXVI 

BEYOND THE SUNSET 

T HE party, which was increased by some manu- 
mitted slaves of Greek origin, sailed for Utica 
in the early autumn of the year, and reached that 
port after a quick and prosperous voyage. Their 
first destination was the Court of King Gulussa. It 
so happened that their arrival coincided with a 
meeting of the three brothers. One of the wilder 
tribes on the desert border had invaded the king- 
dom, and it was necessary to make arrangements 
for an expedition of more than usual proportions. 

Micipsa had brought with him his two sons, and 
a younger lad, Jugurtha by name, his son by a wife 
of inferior rank, of whom we have heard before, and 
of whom the world was to hear a great deal more 
before many years had passed. 

Gulussa and his brother kings gave a most com- 
plimentary welcome to their guests. But when 


382 


LORDS OF THE WORLD 


Cleanor, who was naturally the spokesman of the 
party, unfolded his scheme, they took no pains to 
conceal their incredulity. 

4 4 It would be a thousand pities,” said Gulussa, 
44 if you were to throw away your lives on a roman- 
tic folly of this kind. Why not stop here, where 
you have something ready to your hands, not quite 
so splendid as these dreams of yours, but, believe 
me, a hundred times more solid and real. Now, 
listen to what I have got to say. We — that is, my 
brothers and I — have been talking matters over 
since you came, and we have made up our minds to 
make you an offer that it may be really worth your 
while to accept. Enter our service ; you are both 
skilful soldiers. My father, than whom there never 
was a better judge of men, thought very highly of 
you, Cleanor ; the name of Scipio would be com- 
mendation enough, even if we did not know how 
worthily it is borne by your friend. Details we 
can settle afterwards, but you may depend upon 
it, that you will never have to find fault with our 
liberality. Don’t answer at once,” Gulussa went 
on, as Cleanor was beginning to reply, 44 but think 
the matter over carefully, and let us know your de- 
cision, say, three days hence.” 

The princes spared no pains to make their guests’ 
sojourn at Court agreeable to them. A great hunt- 
ing party was arranged for each day, and the two 


BEYOND THE SUNSET 


383 


young men were furnished with magnificent mounts 
and allotted the best places. At the banquet which 
followed they occupied seats of honour. Meanwhile 
the ladies of the party were welcomed in the royal 
harem, received the most flattering attention from 
the queens and princesses, and were loaded with 
handsome presents. 

“We might do worse than stay, Cleanor,” said 
Scipio to his friend, for his unimaginative temper 
could not help comparing these present splendours 
with the remote prospects of Cleanor’ s scheme, not 
a little to the disadvantage of the latter. 

Cleanor shook his head. 

“ How long do you think it would last ? I don’t 
say anything about the chances that our hosts 
might not always be as friendly as they are now. 
They are a fickle race. But let that pass. Yet 
how long will this Numidian kingdom stand ? I re- 
member what the old king said when I was in at- 
tendance on him before he died. He was sure that 
Rome would swallow it up before long. There is 
sure to be some quarrel sooner or later, and then 
who can doubt which of the two will go to the wall ? 
And there is another thing. If the kingdom lasts, 
will it always be in the same hands ? Have you 
noticed that lad Jugurtha? I remember that the 
old king warned me specially against him. ‘That 
viper,’ he called him ; and as King Gulussa said the 


384 


LORDS OF THE WORLD 


other day, Masinissa was an excellent judge of 
character. The brothers are elderly men, and, to 
judge from their looks, not very strong. Micipsa’s 
two sons, who by rights should come after him, are 
feeble creatures ; Jugurtha is his father’s favourite, 
and he will come to the top of the tree sooner or 
later. And Jugurtha hates us ; you first — perhaps 
because you are a Roman, and his hatred for the 
Romans is a proverb — and me next. No, it would 
not be well, I am sure, in any case to stop here ; 
and to stop with a chance of finding ourselves 
under Jugurtha’ s thumb would be madness.” 

Scipio could not but acknowledge the force of 
these arguments, and gave way. At the appointed 
time the friends announced their decision to the 
kings. Gulussa shrugged his shoulders. 

“Well,” he said, “you must have your own 
way. If you should come back — very few do come 
back, I am told — and I am still alive, you will find 
me as ready to be your friend as ever. Meanwhile 
let us do what we can for you. The queen tells me 
that you have brought your wives that are to be 
with you. Let us have the honour of providing 
your marriage feast, and remain with us afterwards 
for as long as you like and may find convenient. If 
you are bent on this wild voyage of yours you 
must go prepared.” 

The friends gladly accepted this hospitable invi* 


BEYOND THE SUNSET 


385 


tation. Preparations were at once commenced for 
performing the marriage ceremonies with due so- 
lemnity. While these were going on, Cleanor made 
his way to the coast to find a captain and crew who 
would be willing to take part in his adventure. 

His first care was to discover Sypliax, the old 
sailor with whom, as you may remember, he had 
made his voyage to Sicily. The old man listened 
with eager interest to his exposition of his plans, 
but shook his head when the question whether he 
would go was put to him. 

“Ah!” he said, “if you had only come to me 
with this scheme twenty years ago ! But what am 
I saying ? old fool that I am ! Twenty years ago 
you were little more than a baby in arms. I mean 
that I am too old. I am not fit for anything more 
now than pottering about with my fishing-lines. 
And there is my old wife. She couldn’ t go, poor 
thing; she hasn’t set her foot outside the hut for 
the last ten years, and I certainly could not go 
without her. But there’s my son Mago. He can’t 
settle down in the new state of things, for Rome is 
likely to be a much harder master than Carthage 
ever was. Mago is your man ; let me send for him.” 

Mago came, and Cleanor talked his plans over 
with him, and found him all that he wanted. The 
general scheme and such particulars, as the capacity 
of the vessel required, the stores, the cargo of articles 
25 


386 


LORDS OF THE WORLD 


for trade with native tribes, were settled between 
them, and Mago was left to carry out the details, 
while Cleanor returned to the Court of KingGulussa. 

Two months later— for I shall not weary my 
readers with describing the marriage festivities — 
the good ship Pallas lay ready for sea in the har- 
bour of Utica. The piers and quays were filled with 
a dense crowd of spectators, for the fame of this 
adventurous voyage had spread through the city, 
and brought together a multitude of curious sight- 
seers. Loud and hearty were the cheers that went 
up as a soft breeze from the east slowly filled the 
sails, and the Pallas — her prow appropriately 
adorned with the figure of the goddess friend of 
Ulysses, prince of adventurous heroes — forged her 
way round the end of the western pier and shaped 
a course towards the setting sun. 

Sail on, swift ship, to the region that lies beyond 
the darkness of the west. You leave behind you 
a world over which the shadows of civil strife and 
desolating war are gathering. Who knows what 
lies before you — Islands of the Blest, where nature 
smiles forever, her fair face untouched by frost or 
storm, and where man still keeps primeval faith 
and innocence ; or, perhaps, to a world that is but a 
meaner copy of that from which you are fieeing ? 
Yet sail on, happy at least for the hour that is, in 
the unfaltering confidence of youth and hope. 


NOTE 


387 


NOTE 

I have departed, for convenience sake in the con- 
struction of my story, from historical truth in the 
date of Masinissa’s death. This took place before 
the beginning of the Third Punic War. For the 
same reason, the Macedonian pretender is post- 
dated. He had certainly disappeared from the 
scene before the autumn immediately preceding 
the fall of Carthage (when my hero is supposed to 
visit him). 

If my readers fail to form a clear idea of the 
topography of Carthage, I must beg them not to 
blame me. This is a problem which no one has yet 
been able to solve. 

Chelys is an imaginary place ; the young Scipio 
an imaginary person. 

A. C. 


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